


7; 



vJ* *f 



dfok 





»/** 



\ 



J" • * ' 






\ 



N .. 



I: 




AN ESSAY 

OS THB 

POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

OF 

THE ANCIENTS ; 

WITH 

ORIGINAL POEMS 

OS 

"HER MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA'S VISIT TO CASTLE 
HOWARD;" - 

"THE' MORAL AND SOCIAL TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES ;" 
AND OTHER INTERESTING SUBJECTS. 



BY A. G. TYSON", 

(THOR OF A TREATISE OH "SHORT HAND," ETC, 



SECOND EDITION. 



LONDON : 

MESSRS HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., 33, PATERNOSTER-ROW 

MR. SUNTER, STONEGATE, YORK; 

AND ALL BOOKSELLERS. 

1852. 

[PRICE FIVE SHILLINGS BOUND IN CLOTH.] 



7 



T? By 



»7 



INTRODUCTION. 



Poetry, in the estimation of many, is a very questionable 
subject ; and for any one to announce this as the object of 
his pursuit, advocacy, or approbation, is, often, but a signal 
for others to sneer and jest at his expense. And yet even 
those who jest at the Poet are not unfrequently themselves 
singers, musicians, and men of taste ; and sometimes, also, 
admirers of certain Poets ; although, what is not less odd, 
such admirers do not usually agree very well as to the 
individual object of their approbation. And, again, what 
is still more- incongruous, we have observed that the most 
determined sober-minded proser will occasionally finger 
about amongst the Poets, and, like a sparrow with your 
choicest seeds, snatch here and there, with wonderful 
adaptability, the choice morsels which suit his own 
digestion. 

With such contradictory elements, it is not the easiest 
task to define what is the public taste, or the public 
opinion, in reference to this art. To say that there is even 
a small respectable number of Englishmen who never were 
influenced by the finer impulses of Poetic feeling, would be, 
I think, contrary to the truth. The apparent contempt 
which is cast on Poetry would, indeed, premise that it 
is disagreeable to the human mind — at least, so far as 
Englishmen are concerned. But when we stick closely to 
the inquiry, we soon perceive that this contempt is only 
superficial ; that it has, in fact, no natural root in the 
soul ; that when the spirits of men are unbent from the 
trammels of habit and custom, they express themselves 
usually in rapturous strains of spontaneous Poesy. I have 
seen some of the hardest-tempered specimens of humanity 



IV INTRODUCTION. 

exchange their frigidity into the natural flow of harmony ; 
and when their restraints were loosened, and their sym- 
pathies awakened, they have become, for a time, more 
Poetic than the Poets themselves. 

However, as this introduction will not afford sufficient 
space or a fair opportunity for discussing the nature, cause, 
and effect of these general and very comprehensive ques- 
tions, I mention them at present merely to show the 
contradictions, and the deterring prospect that hang on 
his vision who attaches himself to the cause of Poetry. 
My firm and deliberately-formed opinion is, that the 
distaste of Englishmen towards the Poetic art is founded 
on false habit and mistaken notions, consequent, in a great 
measure, on our system of education ; and partly, also, on 
the lucre-seeking devotedness of our nation. But I leave 
the further consideration of these topics till some other 
occasion. 

The generous reader will at once conceive, from these 
remarks, with what diffidence I have ventured to appear 
before the public. It has been the matter of many years' 
conflict with me, as to whether I should or not bring this 
volume to the press ; and the difficulty of meeting with 
an attentive and qualified adviser is not a little ; while, at 
the same time, it is next to impossible for a man to judge 
with strict correctness on his own productions. All these 
reasons I have weighed many times, and with much hesi- 
tation ; for it would be unfair to ask unconcernedly the 
attention of persons whose opinions we feel somewhat to 
disagree with our own. 

With such a bundle of doubts and uncertainties, it may 
be legitimately asked, why have I written ? Why have I 
published ? To answer briefly — I have written in obedience 
to a natural propensity, and for the pure pleasure arising 
from such exercise. This has been, perhaps, the greatest 
and most regular enjoyment of my leisure time, even from 
early youth. When grieved with everything else, I have 
turned to my books with certain satisfaction and relief ; 
and this kind provision of elasticity of the spirit, implanted 
in my soul, has, no doubt, kept me out of many amusements 



INTRODUCTION. V 

of a much more mischievous tendency. Thus, instead of 
being any hinderance to my business habits, as some pre- 
tend that Poetry is, I believe it has been with me uniformly 
a stimulant to exertion, and a balm to the sores of com- 
mercial vexation. I have, therefore, so little to regret 
from the review of my acquaintance with the beneficent 
Muses, that I can heartily wish my best friends to be 
possessed of a similar attachment only in a greater and 
more refined degree. Poetry is the most innocent of 
amusements, and yet the most pleasing ; it consists, 
properly, in the cultivation of fine perceptions, good 
morals, and just reasons, which lead the mind to some 
grand conclusion. These are what I think the right 
materials for this art, and a love for these is a love for 
Poetry — a disposition implanted in human nature by the 
benevolent Creator, as a source of continual satisfaction 
and enjoyment. 

One fact, often imputed to the Poets, is not to be 
denied — namely, that they sometimes go wild in their 
imaginations ! This is often set forth in derision against 
the whole class ! But what of that ? It is, surely, nothing 
extraordinarily strange that half a score Poets should run 
enthusiastic, while, at the same time, a thousand worship- 
pers of mammon make a complete wreck of intellect, and 
display every unhappy symptom of insanity ! This is 
emphatically a mania-generation ! Look where you will, 
it is manifest ! Society is in the daily turmoil of one 
mania or other ! Speculation is so rampant, that it 
engulfs the major part of the capital and intellect of the 
land ; and no sooner is one mania past than another 
treads on its heels ; and they vie with each other for 
patronage and plunder, till, in the usual course of things, 
they sink, dragging with them many, who little expected, 
into the abyss of bankruptcy, insanity, and suicide ! 
Where has Poetry made such devastations in society as 
are constantly arising from that ambition after wealth, to 
which we give the modest titles of trade, industry, and 
the like \ Nay, verily, the madness of Poetry is perfect 
moderation in the comparison ! 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

And, besides this, Poets are not so mad as old Cornelius 
Agrippa and his modern disciples assume. The verdict is 
one only of imperception ! Would you have a jury of 
lawyers to bring in a decision on the symptoms, the cause, 
and the operations of a fever ? Or, would you apply at a 
medical hall for the solving of some knotty points of law ? 
Certainly not, say you. And why, then, should the 
opinions, modes, and tactics of Poets be subjected to a 
right of judgment, or an imperious dictum, which applies 
not to any other class of men ? I only once had this 
question answered, and it was by a superior young clergy- 
man, who gave one fell swoop, one general anathema, on 
all modern Poesy (thank the stars for my personal escape ! 
he had not read any of my verses) ! Well, his answer was, 
that he " knew too much of the caliber of modem Poets to 
countenance them /" Ah, me ! thought I, how strange that 
such spirits as Scott, Southey, Wordsworth, Hogg, Moore, 
Tennyson, Montgomery, and many more, should be dashed 
off the perch of fame by the tremendous flap of one re- 
doubtable screech owl ! I felt a slight momentary inclina- 
tion to remind him, as a fitting parallel, that there are people 
who think such hard things respecting some specimens of 
the modern black cloth as to cast reflections on their 
whole system ! But, resolving not to measure ignorance 
and impudence with him, or to imitate his questionable 
courtesy, I left him in quiet possession of his antiquated 
self-sufficiency, to chant old Ovid's " Metamorphoses," or 
Tate and Brady, as he should prefer. And still, I think 
it a pity that some of those who ought to be excellent and 
enlightened above others, should have so little harmony 
and charity in their souls. I would hope, after all, that 
such examples are not very numerous ; or we will suppose 
that this callow wisdom-bird had not framed his answer 
with sufficient caution ; and lest I might be misinterpreted, 
I cheerfully record my pleasurable experience with some of 
the more liberal of the clerical profession. 

But, though I be well satisfied with my courtship of 
the Muses, yet I am by no means unconcerned in 
publishing ; and this through the distrust of my 



INTRODUCTION. VII 

individual proficiency. I would not willingly reflect dis- 
credit on a cause often at discount. My exercises are 
those of simple, unassisted nature, and my theme may 
therefore suffer for want of sufficient rearing. However, 
as I think I take a rather different view to some men of 
the natural position and claims of Poetry, I suppose it 
behoves me to offer some of my reflections to the genuine 
searchers after truth ; and if but one thought out of the 
whole should spring up to the profit of universal intelli- 
gence, I shall think myself amply paid in owning ever so 
trifling stock in the general fund. 

For the purpose of leading my readers gently into my 
way of viewing the natural offices of Poetry, I have 
gathered a multitude of incidents relating to this subject, 
from the history of the Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, 
who, in many of their manners and customs, were much 
more allied to nature than we are. Not that I can 
approve all their doings ; by no means ; but much may be 
learned from a general review. To the unlearned, many 
of these Poetic usages, when related in plain English, will 
be both new and interesting ; and the classical scholar 
may find in them some acceptable reminiscences of his 
former reading. 

From this collection of historical facts will be seen, at 
one view, that an extensive use was made of Poetry in the 
primitive ages, before the almost last remains of natural 
harmony were eradicated from the human soul, by the 
false principles of civilization. These reviews, and the 
reflections arising therefrom, ought to break down some of 
our narrow English and anti-natural sentiments ; and, as 
intimated elsewhere, it is my intention to follow out 
the argument in a future essay. 

With reference to the pieces in verse, all I shall say, by 
way of recommendation, is, that they were not written 
intentionally for book-making, but for my private edifica- 
tion and expression of thought on passing events, as the 
occasions presented. Nevertheless, the vanity of author- 
ship, which attaches even to the humblest of men, has no 
doubt crept in before this, and, combining with some hope 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 

of profit, and the encouragement of several good friends, 
has brought me to the resolve of publishing. I do not 
volunteer to challenge criticism, because he would be a 
more fortunate man than this world produces in whom 
no fault could be found ; and the critic is unfit for his 
delectable employ who could not first discard Southey, 
Wordsworth, or Tennyson, until they had attained the 
edition of Laureate, and then turn complacently to exhibit 
good reasons for their perfection ! I should as soon expect 
compassion to a lamb in the slaughter, or that the saints 
should be exempt from the perversions of Satan, as 
imagine that any author could be safe from the powers of 
censure. However, it would be cowardice to shrink from 
public opinion on this account ; and, therefore, without 
undue concern for the issue, I cheerfully offer my reflec- 
tions to the perusal of such as are candid enough to seek 
truth with a generous temper. I am persuaded that the 
essay on the Poetic Customs, &c, may be used with 
advantage as an ancient history for young scholars, and 
the verses may offer an agreeable pastime. In committing 
these several pieces to the public, I shall be glad if I can 
discover that they afford as much pleasure to my friends 
in their perusal as they have given me in their composition 
during the hours of recreation presented in the intervals 
of an active business life. 



A. G. T. 

Haxby Station, near York. 



POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

or 

THE ANCIENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



THE HEBREWS. 

The author's object in the following pages is to present, in 
a plain narrative, the position of Poetry and its chief usages 
from the earliest ages, so far as to exhibit the poetic 
influence of the ancients, — and more particularly of the 
Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, — upon our English taste. 
Were it consistent with other engagements, he would 
most gladly pursue the theme through several collateral 
branches of the human family ; but, for the present, he 
must be content to confine his attention to those fore- 
runners and modellers of our own literature. And perhaps 
to the general reader this will be less intricate, and there- 
fore the more acceptable course. 

A review of the rise and progress of any art or science 
offers, perhaps, the most certain means of arriving at its 
natural character and judging of its specific utility ; and 
in the case of Poetry, we have the truest index whereby 
we may observe the progress of civilization. 

B 



Z THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

If we would unravel the origin and the fundamentals of 
Poesy, we must revert to the elements of nature ; we must 
fathom the caverned depths of the ocean, unpack the 
foundations of the everlasting hills, dissect the principles 
of creation, and analyze the First-moving Spirit ! Poesy 
is but another name for harmony, beauty, and proportion, 
whether as affecting the ear, the eye, or the intellect, and 
is, therefore, the essential of pleasure to all degrees of 
perception. It is the veriest impotency of mind to con- 
sider Poesy, or Poetry, as existing only in the measured 
numbers of written versification : this is merely a material 
manifestation of the inert spiritual principle which we are 
necessitated to employ as an instrument suited to our mean 
capacity, in that abject condition of taste to which the 
human mind has wofully descended. 

The system of the universe is represented as a system 
of sympathy, harmony, and musical proportions. " The 
morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God 
shouted for joy," when the foundations of the earth were 
laid (Job, xxxviii.) ; and the harmony and beauty of even 
inanimate nature are frequently represented by the sacred 
writers as shouting for joy, or singing for gladness. The 
Psalmist says, " The pastures are clothed with flocks ; the 
valleys also are covered over with corn ; they shout for 
joy, they also sing ;" that is to say, they are filled with 
harmony and agreeable proportions — with beauty and 
perceptible bliss. 

But, to address ourselves to what may be considered our 
more legitimate subject — namely,-vocal and written Poetry 
— we come first to the history of the Jews, as given in the 
inspired volume ; and the reader will require but a very 
brief sketch to be enabled to observe what a great amount 
of Poetry is contained in the Bible, from first to last. The 
records from the creation to the flood are so very limited, 



OF THE ANCIENTS. tf 

that we could scarcely anticipate any information on this 
particular question ; therefore, how great is the proof of 
the importance in which primitive harmony was held, 
when we find the fact recorded that Jubal "was the 
father of all such as handle the harp and organ" (Gen., 
iv. 21). Jubal was the son of Lamech, the son of Methu- 
sael, the son of Mehujael, the son of Irad, the son of 
Enoch, the son of Cain, the son of Adam ; hence our 
theme holds a very ancient position in the world's history. 
The original Hebrew word, which is here translated harp 
and organ, we are told, signifies literally "the beloved 
instrument" — a name indicative of its possessing qualities 
highly agreeable to the people who were acquainted with 
it. By the term father, we are to understand generally the 
inventor or originator of some qraffc, profession, doctrine, 
or other object; or the first of some particular class, as 
Abraham is called the father of the faithful, on account of 
the remarkable display of his faith in the offering of his 
son Isaac. Of the particular character or extent of this 
beloved instrument, the historians and critics pretend not 
to speak ; only all agree that it was an article of music. 

From the above entire passage it appears that Jubal, 
who was nearly related to Adam, either invented instru- 
mental music, or else so far was the improver on all 
preceding attempts as to create a new era in the perform- 
ance, and therefore became emphatically styled the father 
of the art. In like manner we sometimes speak of Chaucer 
as the father of English Poetry. 

From the same text we may conclude, further, that the 
antediluvians were in possession of some sort of songs, as 
without these we can scarcely conceive the use of music. 
Hence they must have had Poetry of some character, even 
at that early period ; and, considering the purity and the 
expressive beauty of their language before the confusion 



4 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

of speech, it is not improbable that they possessed finer 
harmony and greater effect of poetic diction than we 
usually suppose. This conclusion is justified by the great 
and beautiful harmony yet remaining in the old Hebrew 
and its kindred languages, as well as by the fact that the 
Hebrews, after the flood, used so much poetry and vocal 
music. Although, for some time after the Deluge, we have 
no mention made of songs, music, or other harmony, yet 
that silence must be purely accidental, or subservient to 
the greater design of the Scripture history ; for when Jacob 
secretly departed from Laban, his father-in-law, Laban 
pursued after Jacob, and reproached him for not taking 
an opportunity to celebrate their separation by feasting ; 
after which Laban would have sent him " away with mirth 
and with songs, with tabret and with harp" (Gen., xxxi. 
27) ; which shows that harmony formed a common part of 
their festivals and seasons of common merriment, and that 
it was a matter of regular course among them. 

That songs and music were almost universal amusements 
with the Jews, we have ample proof and multiplied instances 
on record. On passing the Red Sea, the Israelites give us a 
fine example of their acquaintance with music and singing. 
" Then sang Moses and the children of Israel this song unto 
the Lord, and spake, saying, I will sing unto the Lord, for 
he hath triumphed gloriously : the horse and his rider hath 
he thrown into the sea ;" and so on the inspired song runs 
through nineteen verses of the fifteenth chapter of Exodus. 
In this composition we find the most noble of poetic lan- 
guage, beautiful imagery, and sublime sentiment. And 
then Miriam, the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a 
timbrel in her hand ; and all the women went out after her 
with timbrels and with dances, and they sang, apparently, 
the same song as Moses, either in the whole, after he had 
finished his performance, or, otherwise, repeated each 



OF THE ANCIENTS. O 

sentence singly in responses after him. Whence it appears 
highly probable that this ancient people were not only 
universally advocates of Poesy and harmony in general, 
but were practical poets, poetesses, and musicians; that 
they had their songs set to regular metre and music, and 
were, nearly all of them, good singers. Although it is not 
easy for us to discover the metre of this beautiful language, 
yet we cannot doubt its systematic composition ; otherwise 
the multitude could not have sung it together. Their 
beloved instruments of harmony were probably of a rude 
construction in comparison with ours, but were neverthe- 
less capable, no doubt, of producing a fine simple expression 
•of pleasing and majestic sounds, suitable to the high 
•character of their devotional songs. 

Tho most remarkable characteristic presented in the 
musical performances of the Israelites is the readiness with 
which all the people seem to have entered into the songs of 
praise and rejoicing ; and this aptitude, be it remembered, 
was immediately after their 400 years' residence under 
their hard taskmasters, the Egyptians, whose oppressions, 
one might have expected, would, if possible, drive all music 
and poetry out of their souls. But not so ; the essence of 
harmony appears to be inwoven with their very existence. 

In the fifth chapter of the Judges we are presented with 
another very sublime specimen of Hebrew Poetry, in the 
song of Deborah and Barak, which, like the preceding, was 
composed expressly for the occasion of the deliverance of 
the Israelites from their enemies. It has been asserted 
that none of the Greek or Latin Poets ever equalled the 
lofty and natural expressions of this song. 

But the great Poet of the Hebrews was David, who, in 
reality, was inspired from his infancy. In his ruddy youth 
we find him employed as the most expert musician in 
.charming the evil spirit of Saul, by the combined influence 



6 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

of his harp and voice. His splendid song of thanksgiving 
for God's blessings and deliverance from enemies, written 
in early life, is recorded in the second of Samuel (ch. xxii.). 
What is remarkable in this song is its being only another 
version of the eighteenth Psalm. It seems very probable, 
from the alterations and amendments which appear in the 
Psalm, that the composition had been of frequent use, and 
that the copy inserted in the Psalms was the most approved 
and matured edition. 

The days of King David were, to the Jews particularly, 
the days of songs, music, and dancing, as we may observe 
in almost every passage of that famous monarch's life ; and 
besides the above instances of duplicate copies of their 
songs, we have, in the first Chronicles (ch. xvi.), a very 
beautiful hymn, which composes also the 96th and the 
305th Psalms. 

We hasten to examine the book of Psalms, than which 
a more splendid collection of sublime Poetry was never 
made. We derive the word Psalm from the Greek Psallo, 
which signifies to touch sweetly, and is indicative of the 
grandly animated performances of united voices and 
instruments. The book of Psalms is simply a collection of 
hymns and spiritual songs ; these were written by several 
hands, but chiefly by David, " the sweet singer," who was 
also probably the collector of them into one body. The titles 
of many of the Psalms declare their authors : a few were 
composed by Moses, one or two by Solomon, and some by 
others. This collection of divine songs was called by the 
Hebrews Sephir Tehittim, the Book of Hymns or Praises of 
the Lord. Many of the hymns were written for particular 
occasions of Divine Providence ; others are the standing 
themes of general sentiments, and are altogether, as 
near as possibly can be, the same in use, character, and 
arrangement as our religious hymn-books, only infinitely 



OF THE AXCIENTS. 7 

superior both in dicticn of language and sublimity of 
devotion. 

The titles affixed to several of the Psalms render us 
considerable explanation, both respecting them and the 
general usage of music. The term JtoeginotJi, in the title 
of the fourth Psalm, as also in Psalms liv., lv., and lxxvi., 
signifies stringed instruments, and shows us that these 
portions of sacred Scripture were' sung to music by the 
congregation of the Jews. The word Selah, which 
frequently occurs in the body of the Psalms, has been 
thought by some to direct a repetition of the preceding 
part ; but whether it means exactly this or not, is by no 
means certain ; yet we cannot doubt much that it contained 
some sort of musical instruction to the performers. 

Nehiloth, prefixed to the fifth Psalm, signifies the organ, 
and shows that this fine instrument was in religious use 
in the time of David, and that this Psalm in particular was 
directed to be sung thereto. In Ps. vi. and xii., Sheminith 
means the eighth, and shows that these songs were to be 
accompanied by the eight-stringed harp. The Psalm vii. 
bears the term Shiggaion, which may be interpreted into 
varying or changing songs or tunes ; and as this appears 
to be the personal performance of the sweet-singing King 
of Israel, we may reasonably suppose that he altered the 
style of the music, in the different parts, to express with 
more emphasis the several subjects of the hymn. (See also 
Hab., iii. 1.) Gittith, in the viii., Ixxxi., and lxxxiv. titles, 
is taken by some critics for the name of a tune, or song, 
or instrument that was either invented or much uced 
at Gaih. Some think it means the ivine-presses, and 
that the song was to be used in the vintage season. In 
Psalm ix. Muthlabhen is, in all probability, the name of 
some tune, or of some musical instrument ; and Haggaion 
(verse 16) is either a musical term or a call for particular 



8 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

attention. Aijeleth ShaJiar (Psalm xxii.) is the hind of the 
morning, and was, perhaps, the name of an instrument or 
tune ; or might be a song usually sung in the morning. 
Jeduthan (Psalms xxxix., lxii., and lxxvii.) was the chief 
musician, and the leader of those who were chosen to give 
thanks to the Lord " with trumpets and cymbals for those 
that should make a sound, and with musical instruments 
of God" (1 Chron., xvi. 42). Shoshannim (Psalms xlv., lx., 
Ixix., and Ixxx.) signifies, literally, lilies or roses, and seems 
here to be a name for either the music or an instrument. 
So also is Alamoth (Psalm xlvi. ; see 1st Chronicles, xv. 20.) 
Jonath-elem-rechoJcim (Ps. lvi.) is a dove in the remote woods. 
Al-taschith (Ps. lvii., lviii., lix., and lxxv.) means destroy 
him not. Several of these epithets might be affixed, in the 
first instance, as descriptive of the subjects of the songs ; 
or might be meant to express the views or conditions of 
the writer, and thence afterwards become the distinguishing 
name of the music originally used in those songs, even 
when applied to other words, as is sometimes done in our 
music. 

In the title to Psalm Ixxxviii. we have much musical 
information. Mahalath is the flute ; Leannoth signifies to 
be sung alternately ; and Maschil, a tune. (See also 
Psalms liii., lxxiv., and lxxviii.) 

The ciii. and five following Psalms were called Hallel, or 
Hymns, by the Hebrews, and are said to have been sung 
by them at the table in the new moon, the paschal, and 
other feasts, always concluding with Hallelujah. 

In Psalm cxix. we are presented with a valuable curiosity 
of poetic literature. This splendid composition is divided 
into as many parts as there were letters in the Hebrew 
alphabet, and each part is subdivided into eight other 
portions or verses ; and each of these verses in the original 
begins with the same letter as that under which it is 



OF THE ANCIENTS. i) 

ranked ; that is to say, all the eight verses in the division 
under Aleph begin with a word whose first letter is Alepk, 
or the Hebrew A ; and so under every other letter through 
the Hebrew alphabet. The uniform beauty of this piece in 
the original cannot be equalled, we may fearlessly assert, 
in any language : it shows much experience and discern- 
ment in poetic arrangements, with great variety and skill 
of words. This Psalm has been styled, emphatically, the 
"Great Alphabet" and is, in all likelihood, the prototype 
of succeeding acrostic and alliterative Poesy. 

In regard to the metrical composition of the Psalms, as 
already intimated, nothing is known for certain. Josephus 
(book vii.) says, "David being freed from wars and dangers, 
and enjoying for the future a profound peace, composed 
songs and hymns to God, of several sorts of metre ; some 
of those which he made were trimeters, and some were 
pentameters." And yet no one has attempted to define 
these metres, and probably but few will suppose that even 
Josephus himself thoroughly understood their nature. 
Our author, in the same place, describes the Jewish 
instruments of music. He says, that David " also made 
instruments of music, and taught the Levites to sing 
hymns to God, both on that called the Sabbath-day, and 
on other festivals. Now, the construction of the instru- 
ments was thus : — The viol was an instrument of ten 
strings ; it was played upon with a bow. The psaltery 
had twelve musical notes, and was played upon by the 
fingers. The cymbals were broad and large instruments, 
and were made of brass." With so much variety of songs 
and musical instruments, we cannot doubt that the music 
of this people was varied and extensive. 

It is, indeed, probable that the Hebrews were unac- 
quainted with musical notation ; hence their tunes must 
have been entirely traditional ; but for simple music this 



10 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

is no very serious detriment, especially when the habits 
and disposition of the people are continually working in 
favour of the art. Josephus says that Moses composed 
his song at the Red Sea in hexameter verse, although he 
gives us no clue to the nature of such composition, and 
perhaps he uses the term in compliance only with the 
notions of the Greeks, and as the best word within his 
command for their understanding. Our author nowhere 
gives any proof of his acquaintance with the old 
Hebrew metres. The fine poetic song which Moses wrote 
prior to his death is also termed an hexameter by 
Josephus. 

Solomon, like his father David, was much devoted to 
the muses. His ascension to the throne was celebrated by 
a festival, with dancing, and music, and singing. "He 
also composed books of odes and songs, a thousand and 
five." (Jos., book viii.) He made " two hundred thousand 
trumpets, according to the command of Moses ; also, two 
hundred thousand garments of fine linen for the singers 
that were Levites ; and he made musical instruments, 
and such as were invented for singing of hymns, called 
Nablse and Cinyrse (psalteries and harps), which were 
made of electrum (the finest brass), forty thousand." He 
removed the ark into the temple with music and dancing ; 
and the people were so delighted with the ceremonies 
which he instituted at the dedication of the temple, that 
they returned home, making merry on their journey, and 
singing hymns to God. The Proverbs, Bcclesiastes, and 
the Song of Solomon are all well known, and consist 
almost wholly of Hebrew verse. The texture of these 
poetical performances is well worthy of study ; but for the 
present that exercise must be deferred, this reference 
being made to illustrate simply the poetic propensities of 
Solomon and of the Jews generally. These compositions 



OF THE ANCIENTS. II 

are no doubt the books of songs and odes which Josephus 
says were written by Solomon. 

We see in a few glances that the Jews were devoted to 
singing and music in an extraordinary degree. It would 
be more than necessary to scan their customs very 
minutely : they did not use these arts on particular 
festivals, concerts, or set occasions only ; but were in the 
continual and settled habit of making the articles of 
natural harmony a part of their daily engagements, and, 
we may say, an actual ingredient of their national existence ; 
no triumph, no feast, no religious service, or particular 
occurrence whatsoever, was without its song and its music. 
They sang in their pilgrimages, at their tables, at the 
removals of the ark, at the arrival of their friends, at the 
new moon, at their marriages, and, indeed, on every 
occasion that could interest their minds or excite their 
feelings. In almost every part of the Bible we find 
mention of songs, hymns, or music ; but as this valuable 
record is in every hand, I will, for brevity, simply refer the 
reader to the following very particular instances worthy of 
special notice : — Judges, xi., 34 ; 1 Sam., xviii., 6 ; Isaiah 
xxiii. 16, &c. And the Apocrypha affords us many other 
remarkable instances of sacred songs and poetic usages 
well worthy of our attention. 

The practice of singing in catches, or answers one to 
another, which the Jews used, is deserving of our remark, 
as being indicative of their delight, spirit, and proficiency 
in this art. Besides the instances already referred to, see 
also Ezra, iii., 11, where "they sang together by course." 
The answering one another in singing was an old custom 
with them. "When David was returned from the slaughter 
of the Philistines, the women came out of all cities of 
Israel, singing and dancing, to meet King Saul, with 
tabrets, with joy, and with instruments of music. And 



12 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 



said, 



the women answered one another as they played, and 
Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands," 
(1 Sam., xviil) Josephus says it was the wives who sang 
of Saul, and that the virgins replied for David, which 
certainly is a very pretty interpretation. 

About a quarter of a century before the Christian era, 
the Jews were greatly annoyed with the introduction, by 
Herod, of the theatrical exhibitions of the Romans. He 
built, at a great cost, a theatre at Jerusalem, and a great, 
amphitheatre in the plain, wherein he exhibited very 
splendid shows and games, which were contrary to the 
Jewish customs, and therefore gave much offence. He 
introduced wrestlers for prizes, and mixed up naked 
exercises, music, chariot racing, the combats of wild 
beasts, and the fighting of condemned criminals, in such 
profusion that the people were disgusted, and a conspiracy 
was formed with the intention of assassinating Herod ; his 
life was saved only by the office of a spy. This same 
king of the Jews built also a fine theatre and a large 
amphitheatre at Cesarea by the sea-side, and filled this 
place also with his pagan exhibitions. And it looks more 
than probable that the people were, in some degree at 
least, infected with the vanity of these pagan displays ; 
for even those Levites who were singers of hymns had the 
insolence to petition King Agrippa for permission to wear 
linen garments like the priests ; which favour he granted 
them, contrary to the strict discipline of their original 
institutions. And we may gather from several circum- 
stances, that both poetic and moral degeneracy had now 
worked themselves into the heart of the Hebrew nation. 

The custom of singing was continued through the 
gospel dispensation. Our blessed Redeemer's birth was 
announced to the shepherds by a chorus of angels : and 
when He and His disciples instituted the Lord's Supper, 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 13 

they partook of bread and wine, "and when they had 
sung an hymn, they went out into the Mount of Olives." 
(Mark, xiv.) "At midnight Paul and Silas prayed and 
sang praises unto God : and the prisoners heard them." 
(Acts, xvi. 25.) St. John, in his Revelations, says, the 
four and twenty elders with " every one of them harps '' 
"sung a new song" (chap, v.); and, again, those that 
overcame the beast, "having the harps of God," sing 
"the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song 
of the Lamb" (chap. xv.). 

From these and other evidences, we see that Music 
and Poetry were cherished in the affections of the Jews 
to the last. They seem to have thought no place happy 
without the aid of harps and songs. In Josephus's 
discourse on Hacles, he represents the Jewish belief of 
the future state of the blessed as being enhanced by the 
singing of hymns. He tells us that when the just enter 
Hades, it is believed that they "are guided to the right 
hand, and are led with hymns, sung by the angels 
appointed over that place unto a region of light," &c. 
i ' This place," says he, " we call the " Bosom of Abraham." 
And again he expresses his opinion that " the number of 
the righteous will continue, and never fail, together with 
righteous angels and spirits [of God], and, with his word 
as a choir of righteous men and women that never grow 
old, and continue in an incorruptible state, singing hymns 
to God." 

With such doctrines as these, it is evident with what 
strong affection the Jews clung to the arts of Poetry and 
Music : they employed them as their chief means of 
earthly joy, and set them forth as the leading charms of 
their desired blessedness in heaven. 



14 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 



CHAPTER II. 



THE GREEKS. 

Next after the Poetry and Music of the Jews, we are 
led to consider these arts in the hands of the Grecians ; 
and this not only from the geographical proximity of 
these two nations, but also because that the Greeks are 
chronologically the next people, in the successions of 
civilization, who carry the sway through the whole circle 
of the arts and sciences. The general history of the 
Greeks, in their primitive ages, like that of most other 
nations, is cloaked in obscurity and uncertainty ; yet, 
after all, we are not left in great doubt about the early 
condition of their Poetry. In addition to the universal 
facts which usually relate to the songs and other Poetry 
of all infant nations, we may naturally expect that, in 
whatever art or accomplishment the Hebrews and Egyp- 
tians were proficient, the Greeks would not fail to import 
some portion thereof. The voyages from Egypt and 
Palestine to Greece were only like that from London 
to Hamburgh ; and as the prophet Isaiah and others 
represent the Mediterranean Sea as being thronged with 
the ships of Tarshish and the "merchants of Zidon, that 
pass over the sea" (Isaiah, xxiii.), there must have been 
a constant communication between the Jews, Egyptians, 
Greeks, and other nations, and a regular interchange 
of their several luxuries and refinements. Hence, in 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 15 

addition to the Poetry which is natural to all men, and 
besides what might be obtained from other sources, the 
land of Greece would probably be rendered melodious by 
the echoes of the Hebrew muses, of whom we have just 
seen so much excellence. 

The greater portion of the ancient history of Greece is 
confessedly fabulous ; the rest greatly exaggerated and 
mystified ; and, after all this, the highest date to which the 
historian can ascend is to a few years before the exit of 
the Israelites from Egypt. According to these fables, about 
1764 years before Christ, there commenced a great deluge, 
which continued about 200 years, and destroyed the former 
inhabitants of Attica. After this, Cecrops arrived from 
Egypt, and, settling in Attica, was the founder of Athens. 
"We are told, again, that Jupiter, to punish the sins of a 
corrupt world, sent a universal flood, which destroyed the 
whole human race, excepting Deucalion, king of Thessaly 3 
and Pyrrha, his wife, the only blameless people then 
living, who were preserved in a small vessel ; and as the 
waters assuaged, they landed upon Mount Parnassus, the 
first visible remnant of the former world. These appear 
so much like other versions of Noah's flood, that we can 
scarcely doubt the origin of the tradition. Well, in their 
desperate and solitary condition, we are informed that 
Deucalion and Pyrrha consulted the oracle of Themis ; 
and, in obedience to the directions there received, in order 
to repeople the earth with a more virtuous race of mankind, 
they both threw stones over their shoulders, when those of 
Deucalion were transformed into men, and those of Pyrrha 
into women ! If true, how can we wonder at the hard 
and stony-heartedness of the human race ? The former 
part of this wonderful story, relating to the deluge, is 
probably tarnished truth — the latter, a palpable fiction. 

The earliest history which Plutarch ventures to write is 



16 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

of Theseus, 1228 B.C., and he expressly declares that all 
beyond this period is prodigy and fiction; and it is doubtful 
that somewhat of Plutarch's subjects, even of his accredited 
age, partakes no little of the same dubious character. 

From the earliest established particulars of Grecian 
history, we learn that this people originally consisted of a 
few rude and independent tribes, similar to the American 
Indians, or the aborigines of internal Africa ; and that, 
like these, they had their several chiefs, their gods many, 
their songs, and all the institutions of barbaric life ; 
and that, being of an adventurous and discerning spirit, 
in process of time they gathered from various parts those 
materials which ultimately perfected their arts to a 
wondrous degree. 

The first distinct character we have of the Greeks, after 
they assumed an organized state, is that of abstemious, 
harsh, and temperate habits ; implicit submission to 
rigorous laws ; a bold, concise expression of speech ; a 
strength of fortitude and a daring of courage not to be 
intimidated, even by a certain threatening of the most 
terrible death. These habits were established amongst 
the Lacedemonians by the austere laws of Lycurgus, and 
amongst the Athenians by Draco and Solon. The people, 
more especially of these two kingdoms, were taught rather 
to die than yield in conflict ; they were forced to eat their 
meals at a public table, to insure temperance ; and on 
these, and all other like occasions, they were required to 
speak briefly and at once to their purpose. Then were 
their orations made, their Poetry recited, and their public 
games instituted, wherein were nursed a fiery zeal and 
enthusiastic rivalry not at first to be easily conceived, 
but which had the effect of producing the most rapid 
growth of those arts to which they gave their attention. 
The above practices and principles may be traced, as 



OP THE ANCIENTS. 17 

exerting a very important influence upon all the literature 
of Greece to her latest ages, and more especially upon her 
poets and orators. 

Athens was the chief seat of Grecian literature, and yet 
the severely rigorous Lacedemonians, who detested all 
luxurious arts, made an honourable exception in favour 
of Poetry and Eloquence. The great end of this people 
was war, and cheerful resistance even unto death ; but 
their love for Poetry and Music is strikingly exemplified 
in their struggle with the Messenians (A.M. 3319). The 
Lacedemonians, being driven to a great extremity, were 
under the necessity of borrowing from the Athenians a 
general to conduct their armies ; the Athenians sent them 
one Tyrtasus, a schoolmaster and poet, who was at first a 
person very unacceptable to the Lacedemonians ; but pre- 
sently, by his songs and orations, he so stimulated them to 
military valour, that he ultimately led them on, a conquer- 
ing army, through their foes, and became so pleasing to the 
people, that they made him a freeman of their city, Sparta. 
Plutarch says, that Tyrtasus so inflamed the youth with 
warlike fury by his Poems, that they readily exposed their 
lives to the chance of battle. 

Even before Solon's time (A.M. 3380), Poetry and 
Eloquence had attained to great excellence amongst the 
Greeks. It was the custom of the seven wise men to 
meet together frequently, to discuss the best methods for 
the cultivation of government and the fine arts ; for these 
subjects were always linked together by the philosophers 
of that period. Solon, one of the seven sages, has been 
styled the Father of Eloquence in Athens ; he was likewise 
so successful a poet, that Plato asserts he might, with 
application, have disputed the prize with Homer. 

After Solon's death, Pisistratus came into power ; he 
was the first to establish a public library at Athens, and> 

c 2 



18 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

according to Cicero's opinion, made the Athenians more 
fully acquainted with Homer's works, which he is supposed 
to have arranged into their present form, and ordered them 
to be read, or recited, at their public feasts held in honour 
of Minerva. 

In the joint reign of Hippias and Hipparchus, the sons of 
Pisistratus, all sorts of learning received much encourage- 
ment at Athens. The poets Anacreon, Simonides, and 
others flourished under the immediate patronage of the 
court (A.M. 3496) ; and during all the tremendous 
political struggles and civil contentions which distracted 
the several stages of Grecian history, the arts of "War, 
Poetry, and Eloquence went regularly hand in hand with 
rapid strides. The Poets and moral philosophers were the 
missionaries of virtue and valour ; the former by their 
songs, and the latter by their orations, publicly excited 
the people to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and the 
assiduous prosecution of the most desperate exploits. 

In such a state of natural constitution and artistic 
preparation, this handful of dominion, by its superior 
knowledge, wisdom, and. spirit, not only erected at home 
its glorious monuments for the ornament and admiration 
of all after ages, but in arms could disperse the mighty 
hosts of even the famous Persian monarchs, Darius and 
Xerxes. 

By a very slight attention, we may discover that the 
Greeks were so naturally and essentially poetical and 
musical, that they made these arts the chief ingredient 
of their daily business and their public national 
performances. 

After Leonidas, and his little but heroic band of brave 
warriors, had all cheerfully sacrificed their lives, in 
contesting, almost incredibly, against Xerxes, the passage 
of Thermopylae (A.M. 3524), the Grecians decreed them a 






OF THE ANCIENTS. 19 

magnificent monument ; and Simonid.es, one of their chief 
Poets, was employed to write their epitaph. Simonides, 
a native of Ceos, was a cultivator of Poetry, and sang 
the heroism of his countrymen with much beauty and 
animation. 

When the Athenians (A,M. 3589) equipped a magnificent 
fleet, under Nicias and Alcibiades, against Syracuse, they 
completed the ceremony of dismissing it by the sounding 
of trumpets, offering of solemn prayer, and publicly singing 
a hymn. After the defeat of this grand armament, the 
Syracusans detained great numbers of the Athenians 
prisoners ; but these captives had the singular fortune, 
we are told, of gaining the favour of their tyrannical 
masters, by reciting to them the stirring verses of 
Euripides, through the influence of which they had their 
liberty granted, and returned home to thank that poet 
for being the means of their deliverance. This historical 
incident shows the highly poetical constitution of the 
Syracusans ; as also the complete skill which the common 
people, the Athenian soldiers, had in their dramatic 
authors. The above-named Nicias was at great cost in 
improving and conducting an annual chorus of music and 
songs to Delos. 

When Lysander had taken Lampsacus by storm, and 
defeated the fleet of his enemy (A.M. 3599), he went into 
the city amidst the triumphal music of flutes, the flourish 
of trumpets, and the singing of martial songs. Then 
afterwards proceeding to Athens, he demolished the walls 
of that city, and burned the Athenian ships in a like 
display of victorious merriment and dancing to music. 
On this occasion, also, we are informed of the happy 
influence of Euripides in serving his countrymen ; for now 
he had the good fortune to be effectually instrumental in 
saving Athens from destruction. Lysander had resolved to 



20 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

entirely raze the city ; but at a general feast with his 
officers, his compassion was gained, and Athens saved, by 
Phocis, a musician, singing out of Euripides the verses 
beginning thus : — 

" Unhappy daughter of the great Atrides, 
Thy lowly habitation I approach." 

As a useful lesson to men, it may be proper to remark 
that, after this Lysander had subdued all Greece, himself 
was cast down by his own lusts and ambition. He assumed, 
so much dignity, that, according to a common weakness of 
those ages, the people were constrained, through combined 
fear and selfishness, to dedicate temples and offer sacrifices 
to him as a god, at the same time singing hymns and odes 
to his honour. They transferred also the feasts held in 
honour of Juno to his service, and named them the feasts of 
Lysander. In this universal flattery and moral declension, 
the poets and philosophers were also weak enough to join, 
and, either through fear or bribery, were united in the 
train of his followers, and amused themselves in gratifying 
Lysander by singing of his exploits ; but as excess is always 
sure to defeat itself, the scene was soon changed. He had 
no better fate than his fellow-mortals, and the latter part 
of his life was marked with insult, strife, and commotion. 

In that unnatural Asian war, which was carried on 
between the two brothers, Cyrus and Artaxerxes (A.M. 
-3603), we learn that the Greeks, who served under the 
former marched to battle under the thrilling influence of 
their battle-hymns, on more than one occasion. And this 
musical band of warriors, after losing then- leaders, showed 
their wit, wisdom, and the bravery of their sublime prin- 
ciples, by marching in good order and safe array through 
the Persian dominion, although themselves were only 
10,000 in number, and in an enemy's country, far distant 
from their homes or any safe hold, and where their 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 21 

persecuting foes were almost innumerable ; this has been 
considered by scholars and military men as a feat of the 
most superior tactics, in all succeeding ages. It is familiarly 
termed "the retreat of the ten thousand." 

The Grecians had also a manner of insulting their 
enemies with derisive music and songs, in order to 
provoke them precipitately into immediate battle when 
they showed any reluctance. This was done by Agesilaus, 
the Spartan general, against the Thebans (A.M. 3610), on 
the morning following the bloody battle on the plains of 
Coronsea, in Boeotia. 

About this time happened the fatal prosecution of good 
old Socrates, who, by his unremitting attacks, both openly 
and privately, upon the growing vices and luxuries of the 
Athenians, became odious to the citizens, more especially 
to the youth ; and as it was impossible for him to avoid 
being a partizan in public questions, he at last became the 
victim of a faction, at whose instigation he was made the 
butt of common ridicule and the public jest. But what 
rendered Socrates the most obnoxious was his successful 
opposition to a set of vile teachers, who, under the assumed 
title of Sophists, pretended to teach everything ; but who, 
in reality, seeking only their own aggrandizement, entered 
into the intrigues of ambition, and puffed their pupils with 
pride and false principles. Socrates publicly confounded 
the logic of those pretenders, and by that means concen- 
trated their most determined hatred upon him. Hence 
arose a conspiracy composed of those Sophists, and many 
young people of quality, to whom the doctrines of the 
false teachers were much more inviting than the stern 
precepts of old Socrates. Yet there was so much strength 
of truth in the old philosopher, that the lascivious con- 
spirators dared not to accuse him formally and at once, 
but set all their energies to work to prepare and determine 



22 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

the public mind in their favour, by bringing him into 
contempt through their comedians. 

At that time the comic poets regularly exhibited public 
characters in a ludicrous aspect, by representing any 
person's weak points for the amusement of their audience. 
On some occasions they were very useful in restraining 
vicious men from their errors, through fear of ridicule. 
It was highly proper for Aristophanes, the comedian, to 
ridicule the litigious spirit of the Athenians, in his comedy 
of the "Wasps." Also, at Hyperbolus, a citizen of extreme 
wickedness and brutish manners, the comic poets con- 
tinually cast their raillery. This was really a virtuous 
position of the drama, and it strengthened the dislike of 
the Athenians to such a degree, that they ultimately 
banished the wicked object of their disgust from their 
city ! 

But this very weapon of ridicule, which, in some cases, 
did so much good, was in other instances equally effective 
of evil : it discouraged many a modest man from daring 
to do good, and not unfrequently, through venality or 
malice, became a destroyer of virtue and merit. A 
sorrowful instance of this latter effect happened with 
Socrates ; the enemies of this old man enlisted the talents 
of Aristophanes, who wrote a comedy, to be performed on 
the stage, entitled " The Clouds," in which Socrates is 
represented hanging in a basket above the clouds, and 
discoursing in the most singular absurdities. These were 
the commencement of proceedings which grew progressively 
into a general antipathy, and, after a lapse of some years, 
ripened into the death of that good old philosopher. 

Some have ascribed the destruction of Socrates entirely 
to the Poet Aristophanes : but this seems to be a very 
unjust verdict ; the Poet was no more to blame than his 
fellow-citizens ; he was merely the echo of public senti- 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 23 

merit, and, in some measure, the tool of the public, who 
had long marked out the philosopher's fate. 

Socrates is quoted by Cornelius Agrippa as an enemy to 
Poetry ; but, in the very face of death, he gives the he 
to such an assertion. After his famous apology to the 
Athenians, he was confined in prison ; and a little before 
his fatal dose, he entertained himself by writing a hymn 
in honour of Apollo and Diana, and by rendering one of 
iEsop's fables into verse. He knew not the doctrines of 
revealed religion ; his wisdom was that of simple nature, 
and yet such as would put many a Christian to the blush. 

Socrates was undoubtedly a decided enemy to the lasci- 
vious levity of the comedians of his age, and particularly to 
Aristophanes, who assumed a moral standard diametrically 
opposed to the Socratic philosophy. On this account it is 
natural enough to suppose that the Poet retaliated on the 
philosopher with some really bad feeling ; but there is no 
just reason to believe that he was a party to the black 
ultimate designs of the Sophists. It is likely that 
Aristophanes made sport of Socrates in the same manner, 
and after the same principle, as of other people ; that is, 
simply to create merriment for his audience, and fame and 
profit for himself. Socrates never went to the exhibition 
of the comedians, except through the constraint of his 
friends ; but on this occasion, learning that himself was 
the subject of the performance, he made one of the 
audience ; and when some stranger inquired who was this 
Socrates that the play was about, he stood up amidst the 
company during the whole performance, in order that all 
might see and know him ; and the people were amazed at 
his stoic patience and indifference to ridicule. 

On the other hand, Socrates was a great advocate for 
the tragedies of his contemporaries, and particularly for 
those of Euripides, which he greatly admired for their 



24 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

moral and philosophical tendency ; indeed, he has not 
escaped the opinion of having assisted in the composition 
of those dramas. Euripides was at least the intimate 
friend of Socrates, and the old philosopher was sure to go 
to the theatre when any new piece of this Poet was to be 
performed. Our philosopher studied music, and even 
learned to play the lyre in his old age. This was con- 
sidered an accomplishment highly necessary for any man 
who wished to stand well in Athenian society, and implies , 
a consequent poetic state of mind. 

It was usual amongst the Grecian states, at the feasts 
and entertainments, to pass the lyre round from guest to 
guest, that each might sing to his own musical accompani- 
ment, and to be unable to perform was esteemed a mark of 
low breeding. Themistocles, in other respects so famous, 
was considered deficient in education because he could not 
sing to the lyre like the other partakers of an entertain- 
ment ; whereas Epaminondas was greatly praised for his 
excellent performance on the flute. 

Plato, the disciple of Socrates, was an advocate for good 
moral Poetry and proper Music, although, like Socrates 
and many more virtuous scholars, he was opposed to that 
style, both of Poetry and Music, which the corrupted 
manners of the Athenians had then introduced on the 
stage of the comedians : indeed, it is always a misfortune 
when the Muses are prostituted to the passions of vicious 
men. 

When the virtuous and exalted Epaminondas was placed 
at the head of the Theban army against the Lacedemonians, 
he showed his intimacy with Homer by quoting from that 
author a verse, in answer to some objections which were 
urged against his proceedings. In like manner, the 
Phocians quoted Homer in justification of their ploughing 
up the sacred ground ; and Solon inserted a spurious line 






OF THE ANCIENTS. 25 

into that author, for the purpose of backing his own ideas 
Whence it appears that this ancient Poet was a standing 
authority amongst the several Grecian states. 

The Athenians demonstrated their highly Poetic con- 
stitution in the costly establishment and maintenance of 
their theatre for the regular exhibition of their dramatic 
works. They grew enormously extravagant in public 
amusements, till at last the stage seemed to absorb their 
whole attention ; and, in order to satiate this appetite, 
the fund which had been established to support their wars 
was diverted by them to the pompous display of their 
drama ; and so determined were they to secure the con- 
tinuance of this amusement, that they passed a decree to 
alter the old law respecting this money, whereby they 
subjected to the punishment of death any one who might 
ill future propose the restoration of this fund to its 
original purpose. And we are told that it cost more to 
represent some of the famous pieces of Sophocles and 
Euripides than it had done to carry on the war against 
the barbarians. These circumstances happened from 300 
to 400 years before the Christian era. 



26 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 



CHAPTER III. 



THE GREEKS CONTINUED. 

LycurcJus was an Athenian orator of the first rank, and 
a manager of the public treasury for twelve years. He 
acquitted himself with great credit, and left his name 
adorned with the character of honour and virtue ; and 
amongst the more notable works of this amiable man was 
his particular patronage of the theatre, which, although it 
had been carried to great excess, was still, in his opinion, 
well calculated to polish and cultivate the mind. Under 
his protecting influence the tragedians were excited to 
emulation, and by him the statues of iEschylus, Sophocles, 
aud Euripides were erected in Athens. 

Although Philip of Macedon, father to Alexander the 
Great, was a creature of sordid ambition, yet he was not 
void of Musical and Poetic feeling, as he showed after 
obtaining a victory over the Athenians at Chseronea, 
when he exultingly turnedl into song the commencement 
of an oration delivered against him by Demosthenes ; 
and, in mockery over the misfortune of the vanquished, 
he sang and beat tune thereto, saying — 

" Demosthenes the Peaian, son of Demosthenes, has said," &c. 

But, as though the Fates and the Muses had conspired 
against so gross a prostitution of harmony, his own death 
was distinguished by a much greater mixture of misfortune 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 27 

and Poetry. Before he entered on his greatly-cherished 
Asiatic expedition against Darius, he celebrated the 
nuptials of Cleopatra, his daughter, with exceeding great 
pomp ; and, in order to perform that act with the greatest 
effect, Neoptolemus, the Poet, wrote purposely for the 
entertainment a tragedy entitled "Cinyras," wherein 
Philip was prophetically represented as the conqueror of 
Asia ; but the infatuated monarch, in the very moment 
of his highest hope and glorying, suddenly fell a victim 
to the insulted young Macedonian nobleman, Pausanias ; 
and Philip's death, in turn, became the subject of 
triumphal songs throughout Greece, and especially at 
Athens. 

His son, Alexander the Great, had a liberal education 
in Poetry, Eloquence, and the fine arts, and was also 
naturally possessed of much Poetic fire, as his excessive 
fondness for Homer particularly testifies : he made the 
characters and sentiments expressed by that Poet his 
peculiar study. After the Battle of Arbela, some of 
Alexander's soldiers found among the Persian spoils a. 
golden box, set with precious stones, in which Darius had 
kept his fragrant perfumes. This box was appropriated 
by Alexander for the preservation of a copy of Homer's 
works, which he had corrected, by Aristotle, his preceptor. 
This box and his sword were regularly laid under the 
conqueror's pillow at nights. Hence the editions of 
Homer which were published from this copy have been 
denominated the casket editions, or the editions of the box. 
When Alexander destroyed Thebes, he put about thirty 
thousand of its inhabitants to death, after they had fallen 
into his hands : but, even in this bloodthirsty rage, his 
veneration for Poetry was beautifully manifested in his 
sparing the descendants of the famous Poet Pindar, whom 
even the savage warrior considered an author highly 



28 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

honourable to the fame of Greece. It is remarkable 
that similar favour was afterwards obtained by Virgil 
from his patron conqueror, Augustus ; and to the grateful 
recollection of this circumstance by the Poet we owe some 
of the finest passages of his pastorals. 

A paragraph will hardly be misplaced here in taking a 
side glance at the Music and Poetry of the Persians, of 
whose practices we catch a nice insight at our present 
position. They, like the Greeks and Macedonians, seem 
to have thought harmony an indispensable amusement 
and luxury. "When Darius made his magnificent martial 
parade, in his progress to meet Alexander, we have the 
Persian Magi particularly mentioned, as singing hymns 
when they marched ; and Parmenio, Alexander's general, 
found in Damascus three hundred and twenty-nine of 
Darius's concubines, who were all admirable musicians ! 
What can we require more to fill up the musical picture 
of the Persian court and fashionable circles ? That these 
arts were general amongst the Persians, we may infer from 
the great parade of spontaneous music and singing which 
welcomed the victorious Alexander into Babylon ; although 
he needed no such stimulus as this to his musical excita- 
bility, as many of his actions declare. On this magnificent 
occasion the Magi walked in procession, singing hymns ; 
and the Chaldean and Babylonish soothsayers and musicians 
sang the praises of the King to their instruments, after the 
manner of their country. A.M. 3674. 

After this great butcher of mankind had defeated the 
Scythians, he plundered the Sogdians, another tribe of 
Northern barbarians ; and having ordered thirty of their 
most comely young noblemen to be led forth for execution, 
they began immoderate leaping, dancing, and singing for 
joy, forasmuch as they were, in their own esteem, greatly 
honoured in being sent to their forefathers by so mighty a 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 29 

monarch, which they thought the fittest death for a brave 
man ! They were pardoned, as the phrase is, and they 
proved themselves the most worthy men, in serving as 
Alexander's body-guard with uncommon zeal and fidelity. 

The musical mania of Alexander is further exemplified 
by his setting on fire the palace of Persepolis, while singing 
and dancing with his attendants round that noble structure ; 
and when, after the defeat of Darius, he was left to enjoy 
some respite from warfare, he spent his time in merriments 
and sensual pleasures, amongst which singing and music 
were brought to administer their quota of excitement. He 
had with him the musicians who accompanied him from 
Greece, through his wars, and, in addition to their enter- 
tainments, he required the captive women to sing to him 
after the manner of their respective countries. 

At 'this period also the works of Euripides were in 
repute ; for, in one of the drunken feasts of Alexander's 
court, Clitias quoted that Poet in opposition to the King ; 
he also sang some verses which reflected on his royal 
master, which, with other insolence, so exasperated 
Alexander, that he brutally murdered that faithful 
servant. 

After Alexander's return from the Bast into Babylon, he 
built a very prodigious and magnificent monument at the 
funeral of his favourite friend and courtier, Hephasstion, 
This beautiful edifice was about 195 feet high ; its orna- 
ments were grandly rich and varied almost beyond the 
Poet's fancy. But what more particularly belongs to the 
historical inquiry of the Muses, were the entablatures and 
the roof whereon were erected a number of syrens, with 
hollow bodies, in which were placed singers and musicians, 
whose business was to sing mournful airs and dirges to the 
memory of the deceased ! 

The latter days of the Macedonians appear to have been 

d 2 



30 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

inspired with a more general Poetic disposition than 
formerly : the iEtolians had at one time made terrible 
havoc of the Macedonian cities of Dium and Dodona ; 
and in A.M. 8786, the Macedonians, after taking most 
signal revenge on the city of Thermae, belonging to the 
enemy, wrote on its desolate walls this verse — 

" Remember Dium ; Dium sends you this." 

About the year A.M. 8799, the Achaean general, 
Philopoemen, appeared in the theatre, with a fine band 
of young warriors, while Pylades, the musician, was 
singing beautifully to his lyre, out of a piece entitled 
" The Persians," by Timotheus, a dithyrambic Poet' 
that part containing the following verse : — 

" The wreath of liberty to me you owe ;" 
On which occasion the united grandeur of the Music and 
Poetry so electrified the audience, that all the Greeks, at 
once recognizing in Philopoemen the verification of the 
sentiment, clapped their hands, and raised such shouts of 
joy, that they seemed suddenly to reinherit all the glory 
of their forefathers. 

The sentiment of the Greeks is also well ascertained 
in their low opinion of the barbarizing influence which 
accompanies a want of Poetic cultivation. For instance, 
the inhabitants of Cynastha, in the Peloponnesus, were a 
very ferocious and uncivilized people, and the ancients 
considered these ill manners to be a natural result of the 
neglect of the study of Music ; whence they must have 
ascribed to harmony a mighty power in polishing the 
human mind. They unquestionably regarded Music and 
Poetry as the most effective means of softening and 
humanizing the manners of society. They also made 
Music useful by contributing regularly to the common 
offices of labour ; the rowers of their galleys, in order to 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 31 

act in concert, struck the musical time with their oars 
to the singing of a man, or the music of an instrument 
provided for that especial purpose. And so, wherever we 
turn, we may observe in all parts of Greece, and in all the 
grades of her society, the mighty inbred power and the 
regulating influence of Music and Poetry. 

The chief item in the Grecian festivals was their 
choruses of combined singing, music, and dancing, in 
which they took great delight ; and they used much 
emulation to become proficient therein. In those 
performances, their best Poets were employed. From 
this practice arose their Tragedies and other theatrical 
compositions, as well as the Drama of succeeding ages. 
It is recorded that the united effect of the Poetry and 
Music of their hymns was often powerful enough to melt 
the multitude into tears. This shows the high state of re- 
finement to which the public mind of Greece had attained. 
But I must retain a paper on the rise and culture of the 
Greek drama and festivals for a separate article. 

With a public composed of such Musical and Poetical 
materials as existed in this classic land, it is by no means 
wonderful that she should, according to her own peculiar 
idiom, be the favourite retreat of the Muses, and that her 
Poets should rise up pre-eminent above all others ! Never 
had any class of authors so many advantages at their 
service for moving the public mind as had the Grecian 
Poets. The taste of the people was refined, and awakened 
to the appreciation of every beauty in nature and art ; 
their language had been polished, and reduced to a fixed 
degree of smoothness, purity, and Musical excellence 
seldom found in any other nation ; and their mythological 
religion was to them the very essence of animation and 
energy. All natural objects — all abstract virtues, actions, 
and characters — and, indeed, every member of the 



32 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

universe, was governed or personated, in their ideas, by 
some of their thirty thousand gods and heroes ! Indeed, 
all nature was in their hands as a mighty engine of stirring 
intelligence, and all inanimate objects with them teemed 
with living interest. Hence the Poet had for every subject 
a sublime personage, and for every occasion some super- 
human machinery to enliven and invigorate his theme ; 
and the mind became consecrated to lofty sentiments, 
under this habitual impression of the constant presence, 
agency, and companionship of the deities. The thunder- 
bolt and the lurid lightning were driven immediately by 
Jupiter ; each wave of the sea was held in Neptune's ample 
palm ; beauty and love were at the command of Venus, 
and her witching boy, the dimpled Cupid ! Mars was the 
soldier's personal guardian and director; Apollo had the 
management of the sun ; Vulcan, of vulgar or material 
fire ; Vesta, of refined or celestial fire ; Ceres, of the corn- 
fields ; Atlas, of the heavens ; and so on, through every 
object in the universe, the Poet might wander in company 
with one or other of those divinities, who had each a 
peculiar and distinct sphere of action. 

There is a soul-inspiring genius in the whole texture 
and material of Creek Poesy, in the melody of its language 
and in the metaphysical use of attributes as personages, 
which, together, give to Grecian authors an irresistible 
charm, and a natural elevation of character scarcely to be 
anticipated in any other class of writers. 

Yet we not only deceive ourselves, but expose our 
ignorance, if we suppose that all the mythological beings 
mentioned in ancient classics were really objects of 
sincere belief and adoration, especially with the writers 
and other intelligent men of remote ages. The Greeks 
spoke of mental emotions and the qualities of objects as of 
real beings. For instance, when Alexander was on the 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 33 

point of engaging against the multitudes of Darius, he 
offered sacrifices to Fear. Yet we cannot consider this as 
any other than an act of policy, calculated to impose on 
the minds of the soldiers, and, through their credulity, to 
fortify their courage for the coming conflict. Precisely on 
the same principle, when the battle was at the hottest, as 
Alexander had pre-arranged, Aristander, his soothsayer, 
advanced through the troops, and, dressed in white, with a 
laurel in his outstretched hands, cried out that he saw 
an eagle hovering over the head of Alexander ; the troops 
believed the fraud, thought that themselves discovered 
that sign of victory in the air, and rushed forward with 
such renewed fury and irresistibility as quickly defeated 
the almost innumerable army of the Persians. It was a 
very common thing with Alexander thus to impose on the 
devotedness of his soldiers, who readily believed whatever 
he asserted. He frequently had pretended miracles and 
false auguries performed by his express orders ; he used 
very summary work with priests and priestesses ; he took 
a long, dangerous journey, and exposed his army to 
imminent peril in the Libyan desert, in order to have 
himself declared the son of the god Jupiter Hammon, 
whose priests he had suborned to perform the affiliation. 
Callisthenes, a very honourable man, suffered death for 
merely speaking against the propriety of paying worship 
to the King, while he was alive. This infatuated prince 
boasted that he was not only the son of a god, but 
could also make gods, as, in fact, he caused his favourite 
Hephsestion to be reckoned a god, when he built the very 
magnificent temple in Babylon for his worship ! 

But can we conceive that Alexander was so stupid as to 
believe in the reality of these divinities ? Most certainly 
not ! Neither did many of those around him. He 
assuredly used these ceremonies simply as time-serving 



34 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

means for promoting his ambition, and fortifying his glory 
in the eyes of men. 

On the subject of this digression a considerable volume 
might very easily be compiled, tending to show that these 
idol divinities were very often used as no more than 
national ceremonies and customary modes of festivities, 
without any faith in the celestial perfections of the 
honoured deity. The names of supposed personages, or 
departed heroes, were also used as distinctive appellations 
for set feasts, holidays, and terms of merry-making, in 
which even the vulgar saw none other object than a fixed 
season for mirth and public sport. And even Christian 
England has not entirely discarded the principle, for 
several of our modern sports and feasts arise from a similar 
source ; and many an infidel, both in theory and practice, 
and multitudes who care not an iota for the object of 
adoration, still hold with us a right merry Christmas, 
simply because that is a period set apart for a customary 
feast held under that distinctive name. And to our own 
English propensity of personification we owe our national 
divinity, Britannia ; the ideal forms of Time and Death ; 
and our adopted guardian, Neptune, who has become nearly 
as naturalized with us as he was originally with the Greeks. 

There are multitudes of proofs scattered up and down 
history, tending to show that the Kings, Priests, Philoso- 
phers, Poets, and Orators of antiquity were by no means 
deeply-rooted in their faith of the mythological personages, 
especially of the demi-gods, heroes, and the local tutelar 
deities. Perhaps these better-informed men were the 
worshippers of their "UNKNOWN GOD," whom they 
read and traced through all creation ; but they were, no 
doubt, willing, and even studious, to awe the populace, 
and regulate their public conduct, by the influence of 
those religious pretensions which they found to be of 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 35 

infinite service in establishing and maintaining the forms 
of successful government. The common people were easily 
persuaded, in their blindness of the true God, to render 
devotion to the memory of those departed Heroes, 
Monarchs, and Philanthropists to whom they felt many 
obligations for possessions, privileges, and institutions 
obtained by their instrumentality. Men who feel their 
frailty naturally revere that which is evidently superior to 
themselves, and, in ignorance of the Almighty, always 
venerate the names of the great as tutelar deities, or as 
the gods or friends of the particular families, cities, or 
nations for whose benefit their lives were spent. But the 
loftier-minded portion of mankind could never firmly 
receive those as gods, in the legitimate sense of the word ; 
such gods were generally used as a convenience, in the 
absence and ignorance of a better system. 

Socrates and his disciples were clearly convinced of the 
inutility of the common gods. The prosecution of this 
philosopher for impiety shows that he had slighted at 
least some of the Athenian divinities, even though, as an 
active politician and citizen, he had studiously practised 
the formalities and customary observances of his city, and, 
probably for his safety and other political motives, chose 
to conform to the public taste, so far as was necessary for 
maintaining that influence which he desired in the com- 
monwealth. Without some such sort of dissimulation it 
was impossible for any one to gain credit, or even maintain 
his existence, amongst that fiery and precipitate people, 
by whom not a few lives were taken for digressing from the 
common and approved modes of public opinion. Any man 
of perception could easily see how unsafe it was to weaken 
in the smallest degree any of those tenets which served to 
inspire a feeling of awe or subordination in so obstreperous 
and hard-to-be-governed a city as Athens. 



36 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

Even that moral champion, St. Paul, the stoutest of 
Christians, used a similar obliquity of approach to the mind 
of the Athenians, when, standing " in the midst of Mars 
hill," he grafted his new doctrine upon their old opinion, 
and declared unto them their own God, whom they ignorantly 
worshipped ; and even condescended to quote their own Poet 
in confirmation of his assertions. This is a noble instance 
of adaptation to the opinions and arguments of an auditory, 
and far more prudent, both in regard to personal safety and 
doctrinal success, than that system of rigid browbeating 
and creed-stuffing which some indiscreet teachers adopt. 

According to this view of the case, we ought not, surely, 
to censure the Poets for their gods many. They certainly 
did not invent idolatry, and although they used the names, 
as it were, of specific persons, in the place of virtues and 
essences, that is neither their fault, nor, perhaps, their 
opinion of truth and philosophy. The facts look as though 
the first names of favourite objects had, through men's par- 
tiality to their virtues, naturally and progressively grown into 
metaphorical beings. The commonest mode of speech, when 
applied to qualities which we admire, has this tendency of 
rising into personification. The Holy Scriptures abound 
with this metaphorical mode of expression. It was the 
idiom of speech used by the commonest people in the 
Eastern nations, and it would have been most ridiculous 
for the Poets to tame down their diction beneath the 
measure of the meanest classes of society. Nay, the Poets 
have had in all ages a liberal license conceded to them 
for the adoption of such beauties as could be fairly brought 
within the scope of their theme. For these reasons it has 
been thought one of the greatest beauties in Homer for 
him to express the effeminate love-seeking debauchery of 
the Asiatics under the title of Venus, and their brutish 
wars in the person of Mars; whilst with the Greeks he 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 37 

sets forth Juno as the representative of grave conjugal 
affection ; Pallas, as the united energy of scientific war, 
valour, and reason. In the same train we find Mercury 
merely stauds for eloquence, and Jupiter means only wise 
policy; and so with many other supposed deities, who, 
with this explication, dissolve into beautiful sentimental 
figures of speech. 

Neither is this view an invention to extricate the wisdom 
of the ancient Poets from the abyss of idolatry : there can 
be no dispute of this metaphorical mode of expression 
being universal throughout the East, and it is only by the 
ignorance and stupidity of later ages that the classical 
idiom has ever been read in a literal sense ; and all our 
best English Poets stand chargeable with the creative 
prostitution of genius nearly in the same degree as the 
Greeks have been ; take, for instance, Milton's allegorical 
divinity in "Paradise Lost," beginning at verse 648, 
book ii. : — 

" Before the gates there sat," &c. 

Then the Poet goes on to represent Sin, Death, and 
other subjects as real persons or actual beings of very 
hideous forms ; and these he sets forth as breeding with 
each other in a manner similar to the heathen mythology ; 
yet no good Christian can, on this single account, excom- 
municate Milton on the charge of heterodoxy, for his 
system is built on the foundation of St. James, chapter i., 
verse 15, " When lust hath conceived," &c. 

So also our learned Butler personifies the conflicting 
doctrines which disturbed this country during the 
Reformation and the Commonwealth ; yet, whoever reads 
the Poem through, would rather laugh at knight Sir 
Hudibras and the noble 'Squire, than impeach the 
orthodoxy of the author. 

But it is idle work to gather up examples of this nature ; 

E 



38 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

for even the names and virtues of things were, in many 
cases, originally one, and words are nothing more than a 
convenient substitution for objects, and their incidents, 
which could not otherwise be easily represented in our 
mutual communications. These considerations seem highly 
necessary to the due appreciation of the figurative lan- 
guage of all Poets, and especially of the Hebrew and 
the Greek. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 39 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE EGYPTIANS. 

A few observations on Egypt will not be out of order, 
since she is so intimately interwoven with the history of 
the ancient nations. 

In the Egyptians, the spirit of Poetry was less manifest 
than in either the Jews or the Greeks ; but that they were 
possessed of considerable Poetic feeling is quite certain" 
Although unexpressed in verse or metre, the whole 
Egyptian system of religious mysteries, and the stupendous 
works of art connected therewith, were but so many 
expressions of a vis poetica which stirred within thenu 
in unison with universal harmony. The spirit of the 
Egyptians was uttered in a peculiarly subdued and 
symbolical form : first, because that the art of writing 
was not common amongst them ; and, secondly, because 
the arts and sciences were confided to the care and 
cultivation of the Priests. These two circumstances kept 
down the enthusiasm of the people, and restrained the 
speculative and adventurous propensities of the nation. 

From the early proficiency in the arts of Poetry and 
Music, already seen, with the Hebrews, it would appear 
that they must have practised singing even in their bondage 
under the Egyptians, and that, therefore, the principles of 
metre and melody must have been, even at that early 
period, familiar to this latter people. 



40 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

The great contribution, too, which Egypt made towards 
the establishment of the arts and sciences in Greece, is a 
strong exemplification of Egyptian knowledge and practices 
from the earliest times. Before Greece had arisen from 
barbarity, or ever the Israelites had waded the Jordan, 
Egypt was the learned country, the classic land, to which 
the aspiring student then travelled in quest of information,, 
the same as in later days he journeyed into Italy or Greece? 
In this manner did Lycurgus, Solon, Pythagoras, Plato 
and many others of the most famous Grecian Politicians, 
Philosophers, and Poets glean up their tenets in Egypt, 
and transplant them to the more prolific region of Attica 
where, under the cultivation of an active genius and 
national freedom, they have produced such glorious fruits. 

But the slow, dull, and enervating principles of the 
government of Egypt blunted the contemplative and 
glowing imagination which is natural to man, so that she 
has not been marked by great literary progress. Yet in 
the latter periods of this nation, under the Grecian 
influence of the Ptolemies, she added somewhat to the 
general stock of universal art and science, and, in a 
measure, seemed to avenge herself on former restraints 
by a prodigious and extravagant show of this particular 
characteristic. The literary, and especially the Poetic, 
spirit of the people burst forth amazingly at this time ; as 
proofs whereof, we may witness especially the Alexandrian 
Library and Academy, and the Egyptian festivals. 

Ptolemy Soter founded the above academy for the study 
and cultivation of the sciences, in a similar manner to that 
adopted by the Royal Academies of London and Paris. 
He gave a large library to this institution, which, at the 
death of Ptolemy Philadelphus, his son, amounted to 
] 00,000 volumes ; and the succeeding Princes increased 
the number to 700,000. The means used for obtaining 



OP THE ANCIENTS. 41 

these works were both singular and oppressive. One plan 
adopted was to borrow, or get hold of by any means, all 
the books that could be come at ; these were forwarded to 
the Alexandrian literary institutions, and, being all in 
manuscript at that period, were there neatly copied by 
persons employed for that purpose, when the originals were 
deposited in the library, and the copies presented to the 
first owners thereof. 

Ptolemy Euergetes is particularly mentioned as having 
borrowed from Athens the Tragedies of Sophocles, Euripides, 
and iEschylus, which he put into this library, and returned 
the Athenians beautiful copies of these authors, together 
with 15,000 crowns of money for the liberty he had taken 
of forcing the literary treasure ! The bounty was hand- 
some enough, but the proceeding too arbitrary to be 
reconciled to the virtuous temper of a truly liberal genius. 

This magnificent library was deposited in two separate 
places — the Burchion and the Serapian ; the former, with 
its 400,000 volumes, was burned during Cassar's wars upon 
Egypt ; the remaining library of 300,000 volumes, in the 
Serapion, was increased by Cleopatra with 200,000 other 
books, given her by Antony, who had taken them from 
the library at Pergamos. By this and other additions the 
famous Alexandrian Libraiy reached nearly its former 
number of volumes ; but it perished entirely under the 
ignorance and bigotry of the Saracens, who sacked 
Alexandria, A.D. 642, during their progress through the 
Roman Empire. The books were used by them for a 
considerable time as fuel for cooking their food and 
warming their baths. This destruction is a sad reflection 
for the scholar, who was thereby deprived of many original 
classics whereof not even a copy remains. We have but 
little occasion to praise those bibliothecal cormorants, who 
glutted their ambitious literary appetites simply to feed 

e 2 



42 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

the flames with the brightest gems of the human mind. 
Had those books continued to be scattered abroad in 
the world, in the common way of scholastic business 
it is probable that most of them would have escaped 
destruction. How thankful should we be for the multi- 
plying art of printing, which laughs at the annihilating 
prowess of the flame, and mocks the malice of ignorant 
destroyers ! 

The academy at Alexandria continued to supply the 
world with philosophers, and the church with learned 
fathers and doctors, for ages, amongst whom were Origen, 
Clemens Alexandrinus, Ammonius, Anatolius, Athanasius, 
and many more. 

In Poetry, the object of our pursuit, although Egypt 
produced but few writers, yet the people, when encouraged, 
were magnificently extravagant. The solemn festival and 
procession celebrated on the inauguration of Ptolemy 
Philadelphus is almost without parallel. Those who have 
not read the full account of this august ceremony can 
scarcely form any idea of its splendour ; yet we can here 
admit simply those portions which more especially belong 
to the Muses. One band in the public procession con- 
sisted of comedians, musicians, dancers, and the like, 
headed by Philiscus, the Priest and Poet of Bacchus. 
Another band contained a great many satyric, comic, and 
tragic masks, borrowed, no doubt, from theatrical repre- 
sentations. In a wine-press, placed on a car and drawn 
by 300 men, six satyrs trod grapes to the music of the 
flute, and sang such airs as agreed with the times of their 
motion ; streams of wine flowed from the chariot during 
the whole procession. This Singing and Music was used 
like that to which the Grecian seamen beat time with 
their oars. A similar usage of Singing was formerly 
employed by the Venetian gondoliers, or boatmen, who 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 43 

sang, from Tasso, alternate strains, answering to one 
another. But now 

" In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, 
And silent rows the songless gondolier." 

See some interesting notes in " Childe Harold." I know 
of no parallel in English, except it he of half a dozen 
satirical fellows, who, one day, with a rope over their 
shoulders, hauled a keel up a canal, singing all the while, 
" Britons never shall be slaves !" 

Another band in the above Alexandi'ian procession con- 
sisted of a chorus of 600 men, of whom 300 played on 
gilded harps, and wore golden crowns. 

It was the same Philadelphus who caused the Holy 
Scriptures to be translated into the Greek language by 
72 learned elders, six from each tribe of the Jews. This 
version is called the Septuagint, and would work a 
considerable degree of its sacred Poetic spirit into the 
mind of the Egyptians. 

Egypt, in her latter ages, recovered, with full interest, 
all she had originally lent to Greece in the arts, sciences, 
and Poetical ornaments of life. Take what may, with 
some propriety, be termed the closing scenes of Egypt's 
artistic magnificence. Witness Cleopatra's splendid voyage 
to confer with Antony at Tarsus ; the stern of her ship 
was blazing with gold ; its sails were purple, and the oars 
were richly inlaid with silver. On the deck was raised a 
pavilion of gold cloth, under which, robed as a Venus, 
appeared Cleopatra, surrounded with beautiful virgins, 
some of whom represented the Nereiads, and others the 
Graces. And, fully intent on the due effect of the soft 
and bewitching, she discarded the music of trumpets and 
other high-sounding instruments, so generally used on 
such occasions, and, instead thereof, were heard the 
enchanting undulations and mixed harmony of flutes, 



44 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

hautboys, harps, and other such articles warbling the 
softest and sweetest airs, in time to the seamen's oars, 
whose gentle and steady movements united to render the 
whole charmingly agreeable. On the deck of the vessel 
were burning perfumes, which emitted sweet odours to a 
great distance along the river, whose banks were covered 
with an infinite multitude of people, among whom it was 
reported that the goddess Venus had come, in masquerade, 
to visit Bacchus for the benefit of Asia ! 

The flute appears to have been a favourite instrument 
with the Egyptians. We find King Ptolemy Auletes, the 
illegitimate son of Lathyrus, who ascended the throne 
65 years B.C., valued himself much for his excellent 
performance thereon ; he was on that account surnamed 
Auletes, which means the player upon the flute. He 
disputed the prize with Music in the public games. "We 
get other glimpses of the Musical customs of Egypt at 
this period, in her connection with the Romans. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 45 



CHAPTER V. 



THE ROMANS. 

The historical obscurity which usually attaches to the 
origiu of nations, attends with a dash of the marvellous 
and heroic upon the birth of famous Rome. We are told 
that iEneas, son of Venus and Anchises, on the destruction 
of Troy (A.M. 2824), escaped into Italy, and, through 
marrying Lavinia, the daughter of Latinus, the King of 
the Latins, became possessed of his kingdom. In the 
progeny of iEneas and Lavinia issued a succession of 
Kings for nearly four hundred years, of whom Numitor, 
the last King of Alba, was the fifteenth, and he inherited 
the throne through his father's will ; but his brother 
Amulius, to whom was left the ancient treasures which 
descended from Troy, found in his wealth the means of 
usurping the kingdom to himself. In order to secure this 
ill-gotten booty to his undisturbed possession, Amulius 
slew the sons of his brother, and devoted their only sister, 
Rhea Silvia, to the perpetual celibacy of a Vestal nun. 
By this conduct he thought to deprive his brother Numitor 
of posterity, whose claims might have been troublesome to 
his peace and security. But, in spite of this cruel artifice, 
Rhea Silvia produced the twins Romulus and Remus, who, 
having been cast into the river Tiber for their destruction, 
by the directions of the barbarous King, were rescued and 



46 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

secretly nursed by the wife of Faustulus, one of Amulius's 
herdsmen. 

These youths, of course, were reared to the shepherd's 
life, and, after the manners of their day and country, often 
engaged in plunder and petty warfare, until at last they 
suddenly dethroned Amulius, and restored the kingdom to 
their grandfather Numitor, whereof they left him in quiet 
possession, and agreed between themselves to build a new 
city upon those hills over which they had rambled from 
their infancy. But a quarrel ensued ; Remus was killed 
by his brother, and Romulus thus became the lone founder 
of the city of Rome, so named after this youthful hero, 
then but eighteen years of age, A.M. 3252. In order to 
people this rude city, then certainly not worthy the name, 
it was thrown open as an asylum for banditti, fugitives, 
and marauders of any description, who were freely invited 
there to take up an abode ; and, to the astonishment of 
mankind, this motley multitude soon brought themselves 
into a vigorous compact, which ultimately grew as a giant 
amongst the nations. Eutropius asserts that we cannot 
find any nation less in its origin, or greater in its progress. 

Although Romulus, the founder of Rome, and his twin 
brother Remus, are said to have been educated privately 
by Faustulus, the herdsman, and further instructed at 
Gabii after the Greek manner, yet it is doubtful, consider- 
ing the habits of their youth, and the early age at which 
they commenced their city, that their education was but 
a trifling affair. It is supposed that Romulus learned 
something of the Greek language, and introduced pure 
Greek words, unaltered, amongst the Latin : he probably 
knew nothing about varying their forms to suit the idiom 
of different tongues. 

Yet, amidst this obscure barbarity, we find Poetry 
breathing her exhilarating influence through the medley 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 47 

multitude. In that model of the future triumphal entries 
of Rome, after the defeat of Acron, the victorious Romulus, 
in order to strike the people with joy and pomp, made a 
grand procession, singing songs of triumph, which so 
delighted his subjects, that they received him with ad- 
miration and great acclamations. The songs of Romulus 
were acceptable to the innate harmony of the people ; but 
it is remarkable that, both on this occasion, and also when 
Numa arrived amongst them as their King, they expressed 
their pleasure by shouts and acclamations, whence it appears 
that the Romans were not yet, as a body, prepared for 
collective public singing, as were the Grecians. Indeed, 
the very confusion which must necessarily have attended 
such a mixture as composed the Roman constitution, 
would not only prevent any general performance of national 
songs, but also greatly impede individual progress in the 
harmonious arts. 

Romish character during the thirty-seven years' reign of 
Romulus is that of extreme rudeness ; we look in vain for 
any degree of intellectual polish or literary refinement ; and 
the only virtues manifested in the inhabitants of this new 
nation are those of the rougher class — boldness, resolution, 
obedience to military commanders, and the like. It were 
perfectly impossible for such a promiscuous set of low 
adventurers to accomplish anything in classic, or, indeed, 
even in common literature. The only work performed 
during this period was that of establishing and modelling 
their political existence. Yet we shall do well to observe, 
as we go along, the effects of the one marked characteristic 
which, as observed above, emanated from this original 
condition of the public mind. That fierce and determined 
conduct, which belonged to these first Romans, grew with 
their growth, and cast a distinctive trait over every object 
connected with the future history of their afterwards 



48 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

mighty nation. Their language, when once fully moulded 
and fixed, became one of remarkable vigour and stern 
energy ; their laws and institutions were of the same cast, 
while even the Poetry and entire literature of their classic 
period were affected in a great degree by the same cause- 
And from this source arose most of those distinctive 
nationalities which we term Roman. 

After an interregnum of one year, during which the 
senators held the supreme command, Numa Pompilius 
was invited to sway the regal power, which he ultimately 
accepted (U.C. 38). This King effected an entire revolu- 
tion in the national manners and feelings ; he cultivated 
all the milder graces with a devotion seldom, if ever 
surpassed by any other Prince. Upon the robust virtues 
of the former reign he successfully engrafted the enthu- 
siasm of superstitious religiou, and thereby completed 
that national character which was destined to become 
so mighty. On his accession to the kingly office, he 
introduced many refinements amongst his subjects, and? 
by combining carefully into one the religious ceremonies 
and the acts of the government, he restrained the savage 
propensities of the people, and bound them down to good 
discipline and improved moral conduct. In order to 
interest and secure their better feelings, he established 
several new religious rites and ceremonies, commingled 
with dancing and singing : the priests, called Salii, carried 
sacred targets through the city, performing, at the same 
time, a rapid dance and singing songs. 

In order to ingraft these articles of heathen civilization 
more firmly upon the affections of his citizens, and to 
instil into them a reverence for the patrons of the arts 
Numa pretended that he had been taught his new 
institutions by the nymph Bgeria and the Muses, and 
that he was commanded to dedicate to those Muses the 






OF THE ANCIENTS. 4t) 

meadows where he had been used to converse with 
them. 

In Numas's reign, which extended to forty-three years, 
the Musicians had become sufficiently numerous in his 
young kingdom to be constituted into a distinct body or 
company, with its own peculiar court and ceremonies 
under the especial encouragement of their sovereign. 

By the address and arts of Numa, the savage disposition 
of the Romans was softened down ; their manners were, in 
some promising degree, polished ; and the ground-work 
of their future fame was laid. Without such culture the 
value of their arms could never have been properly directed, 
nor their victories duly improved. 

The literary efforts of this reign consisted mainly in the 
twelve Latin and twelve Greek books of Numa's ceremonies, 
which he ordered to be buried in a stone coffin, alongside 
of himself, and which, after a period of 400 years, were 
exhumed, when the senate, from pretended veneration and 
respect, caused them to be burned in order to preserve 
the secrecy of then- contents ; but the true motive for this 
deed is supposed to be that of hiding the childish super- 
stition which these books contained, lest they might be 
productive of infidelity in the public mind, and cause 
troublesome objections to the superstructure which had 
been built thereon. 

The reigns of Tullus Hostilius and Ancus Martius, the 
third and fourth Kings of Rome, were mostly occupied with 
war. Then Priscus Tarquinius, the fifth King, built a 
circus — a large circular building, with rows of seats, each 
one higher than the other — on purpose for the people to 
enjoy the diversion of public games. He instituted the 
Roman games called Ludi Romani ; also named Magni, 
in honour of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. These per- 
formances consisted of much singing, music, dancing, 



50 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

wrestling, and other such like popular acts of merri- 
ment. At this period the Romans had then' simple 
songs for private entertainments and their religious 
festivals, and began to form a sort of spontaneous 
bantering comedy. They also used short heroic Poems 
expressive of their sentiments, on the lives of their heroes, 
their rape and strife with the Sabines, their foreign wars, 
internal convulsions and domestic events, together with 
such other themes as related to the facts or traditions of 
their own nation. These old traditional Poems have been 
supposed to constitute the spirit of Livy's narrative ; 
but, Hke the native songs of all other primitive people, 
they were extremely simple and unpolished, mostly 
written in an irregular verse called Saturnalian, and very 
far removed from that precise and regular style by which 
they were supplanted on the introduction of Grecian arts 
into Rome. 

The seventh and last King of Rome, Lucius Tarquinius, 
sumamed the proud, usurped the crown and proved an 
indecent tyrant. By this time architecture had made 
great progress, as we find in the magnificent building 
named the Capitol, which, in this reign, occupied the 
people four years in erecting, upon the foundations laid 
by Tarquin the Greek, their fifth king, who had introduced 
many Grecian refinements. It is worthy a passing remark 
that, in the word Capitol, we have an example of that 
compounding of words which is not only common, but 
really necessary, in the forming and expanding of languages 
in young states. When digging the foundations for this 
large edifice, the workmen, as the tale is told, exhumed 
the head of a man named Tolus, which, after being buried 
many years, bled as fresh as though it had been newly 
slain ; hence Caput, the Latin word for head, and Tolus, 
the man's name, became the roots of the new word Capitol. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 51 

During the 243 years of Roman history, which includes 
the period of her seven Kings, we have nothing presented 
to which we can apply the general terms of arts, sciences, 
or literature, excepting that small matter which we observe 
in the somewhat improved habits and manners of the 
citizens ; or, to speak more properly, we find nothing as 
yet amongst the Romans in the way of scholastic progress. 
In the horrid tactics of war they had become more regular 
and systematic. In this lay their chief pre-eminence, and 
in close combination herewith we see their religious super- 
stitions exerting a mighty national influence ; not only 
nursing and establishing their martial intrepidity, on the 
one hand, but, on the other, producing a grand display of 
architectural effort, which, being founded on the sublime 
model of the Greeks, reared monuments that were the 
wonder of every beholder. 

A general view, taken from this stage of Roman history, 
presents us with some of the most remarkable workings of 
human nature that ever marked the progress of mankind, 
which, though unconnected with any peculiarities of 
Poetry or Music, in the first instance, yet, so far govern 
the future development of these arts as to justify a few 
remarks in this inquiry. The public mind in Rome 
originally fierce, desperate, reckless, and adventurous — 
an heterogeneous mass of all that seemed distorted and 
ungovernable — was, by the resolution and address of a 
stripling, Romulus, amalgamated into one harmonious 
body of bold and determinate nationality. The mixed and 
barbarous multitude became, under their first King, united 
to one purpose, and combined for one common design — 
namely, that of establishing and extending their own 
political existence and independence. 

And then, as though the Fates had really conspired on 
behalf of the infant state, their second King happily 



52 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

seized on this combined political enthusiasm, and, with 
all the devotedness that man is capable of throwing into 
any subject, he remodelled the entire Roman society into a 
religious subordination, which kept the multitude in check, 
and helped to work out their civilization. 

In this manner the young kingdom was tossed instantly 
from one extreme point to another, and all its earliest 
Rulers, being adventurous strangers, were necessarily men 
of strong and decided principles in some way or other ; 
and each one imparted somewhat of his character to the 
public manners of the people. Some great and marked 
singularity or other was the necessary qualification for 
promotion to the regal office. When there were but few 
laws, or even none, common-place Kings would not do : 
they must needs be men of some established bias of mind, 
and of sufficient energy to enforce their views. 

Nations generally rise gradually out of settlements of 
families, or tribes of emigrating friends or neighbours? 
formerly acquainted and previously agreeing upon certain 
forms of society and government, which naturally grow 
under their common cultivation. But with Rome all was 
reverse to this principle ; everything depended in a great 
degree upon the influence of her Kings, particularly those 
of her earliest choice. In this hasty notice, Tarquinius 
Priscus, the fifth King, is worthy of mention, as the 
introducer of many of the Greek polite arts, which infused 
a measure of classic zest into the barbarous mind. But 
in the search of literature, properly so called, we must 
pass on. 

"We proceed, then, to the fourth centuiy of Roman 
oareer, which opened under most inauspicious appearances, 
moral, intellectual, and political. Riven asunder by her 
own fickle barbarity, oppressed by the external depre" 
dations of her old enemies, and doubted by her wavering 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 53 

allies, she seemed tottering on the verge of ruin ; her 
sinews were broken for the want of unity ; she was tossed 
about by her contending factions, and witnessed, in turn, 
many opposite phases of government. 

"While Rome was in this desperate moral state, an 
irruption of the barbarous Gauls descended from beyond 
the Alps into the northern parts of Italy; and, being 
highly charmed with the climate and its productions, 
boldly marched forward to Rome, and easily destroyed an 
undisciplined, irregular army that was sent out to arrest 
their progress ; they burned the city to ashes, leaving 
only the Capitol unconsumed. This stronghold a few 
remaining warriors had fortified, and defended with a 
new degree of bravery which their terrible disasters had 
infused into them, until Camillus, one of their best old 
veterans, whom they lately banished for his virtues, 
arrived with an army from the country, and completely 
routed the invaders. It is singular enough to deserve 
recording, that the Capitol, the only remaining object of 
Rome, was on this occasion saved by the sweet music of a 
goose ! During the dead of the night, some of the enemy 
had scaled the rock, and passed the top of the wall, when 
the sentinel was awakened from his sleep by the chattering 
of the sacred geese of Juno's temple, just in time to avert 
from entire destruction the last portion of the original 
city of Rome. 

This is about the conclusion of the Legendary period of 
the Romans : from this time they took a new turn, and 
started forward with increased vigour, which brought 
them on to their Classic era. They had hitherto used 
the common national songs, similar to those of other 
unpolished people, breathing of patriotism and legendary 
heroism. Their traditions, and Poetry, such as it was, 
were intimately connected with each other, according to 



54 THE POETIC .SND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

the bold, rude form of their own peculiar spirit. These, 
their popular ballads, constituted a sort of half-fabulous 
history, and were, up to the present, nearly their only 
records. As to their public amusements of the dramatic 
cast, these consisted of pantomime and a rude jesting 
comedy, such as had sprung up spontaneously from their 
own manners and customs, and differing not very widely 
in character from the earliest comedy of the Greeks — 
simply a coarse raillery and buffoonery, performed in a 
barbarous manner. 

About the commencement of the sixth century from 
the building of their city, may be properly regarded as 
the epoch of literature with the Romans. The spirited 
struggles which this people had made at home, and in the 
field, since the destruction of their former grandeur by the 
Gauls, had been a hot-bed whereon all the most elevated 
and sublime emotions of their nature were rapidly forced 
up to perfection, even amidst the destructive blasts of bitter 
contentions, which were all the while raging around them ; 
but now a universal peace from abroad, and quiet at home, 
shone on them, as a sweetly cheering spring, to burst their 
already budding intellect into the full beauty of a flowery 
Poesy. By their foreign experience, their importation of 
new maimers, and the naturalization of immigrant Artists 
and Literati, they began to feel their own position, and to 
aspire to an imitation of the sublime models of the Greeks. 
Livius Andronicus, a Greek captive, was their first dramatic 
caterer. He transplanted considerable portions of the 
Grecian Drama into the language and performances of 
his conquerors, and also translated Homer's "Odyssey" 
into the Roman tongue. 

But the Romans could never imbibe the true spirit of 
their great teachers ! Unfortunately for the literary fame 
of this people, they were not only sufficiently dull, and 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 55 

meanly contented to be dragged after this manner out of 
their barbarity by a literary importation, but quietly, even 
after their partial renovation, sat down to be mere servile 
imitators of then great prototypes. 

Ennius, the first Roman dramatist, was naturally a man 
of Poetic spirit ; but he also foolishly allowed his vanity 
to lead him astray after Greek formalities, to the neglect 
of the substance, and thereby much of his original grace 
was lost. He became very assiduous in supplanting the 
ancient indigenous melodies of Rome, in favour of the 
regular and systematic versification of Greece. He thus 
aimed at too much, and ruined himself and perverted for 
ever the taste of his followers. He ought rather to have 
cultivated the Roman nationalities, coarse as they were. 
He should have gathered the rough natural productions of 
his native land, and worked them up to a finer polish, like 
as Homer with the Greek, and Chaucer with our English. 
The Romans, in such a case, would have felt themselves to 
be quite at home, and have gone boldly on with the work 
in the full strength of natural spirit and native enthusiasm. 
They had sufficient energy for any work, and only wanted 
setting loose into a free channel to accomplish any reason- 
able purpose. This was their primitive constitutional 
character ; the direct working of their proper nature. 

Their second or habitual nature, equally strong with the 
former, was their extravagant superstition, their veneration 
for anything which once gained their credence or surpassed 
their comprehension ; and I make no very great doubt but 
a portion of even this feeling gained ground in the literary 
conceptions of the Romans. They were struck with some 
degree of awe at the sublimity of the Greeks ! They might 
fear the rough handling of gods, which formed the great 
machinery of Grecian Poets ! And if so, how surely would 
they follow with but a feeble energy ! 



56 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

And yet, as no man of good natural parts can frequent 
highly cultivated society without being considerably re- 
fined thereby, so could not the Romans be made inti- 
mately acquainted with the Greeks without imbibing 
their inspiration, either totally or partially. Accordingly 
we are told that this contact did really work out a 
new degree, or, perhaps, a new sort, of Poetry hitherto 
unknown. Instead of running headlong, to do violence 
amongst the deities, they first tried their hands in railing 
at the faults or imperfections of the superiors of their 
own kind, which brought into existence that species of 
Poetry termed satire, which, by the ultimate cultivations 
of Lucilius, Juvenal, and Horace, became truly a grand 
art. 

The veneration of the Romans for the models of the 
Greeks produced, in the general effect, a descent from 
their natural ease and spirit to a restrained fcrmality ; 
and had it not been that their innate, daring, martial 
disposition imparted a sublime courage to their manners, 
and thereby redeemed them, in some measure, from the 
base servility of copyism, we should have been deprived 
of those few great Roman authors who, afterwards, com- 
mingled their genius with the spirit of universal Poetry. 

In purely dramatic writings the Romans were always 
very unhappy : their whole stock for a long time consisted 
of nothing more than some base translations from the 
Greek, together with the native buffoonery of their own 
invention, which was probably never thought worthy of 
cultivation, by reason of the higher pretensions of the 
Grecian style. The importation of foreign Poetic prin- 
ciples turned the Roman genius out of the course of its 
natural channel at the commencement of its progress ; 
and, as in all other cases of early perversion, the after 
workings never entirely shook off the first influence. If 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 57 

the native spirit of the Romans had been allowed to go 
forward in its own propensity, as the leading feature of 
their ars Poetica, with now and then a little exotic 
auxiliary polish, instead of being entirely broken up with 
foreign learning, it would doubtless have grown into 
another class of Poetry, as far removed from any of the 
Greek characteristics as the Poetry of the Greeks differed 
from that of the Hebrew, the Indian, and all other writers. 

In the early periods of this people, all their marvels 
and fables were peculiarly national, and their legends and 
superstitions distinctively Roman ; but this native simpli- 
city, which, in even its rudest circumstances, is the essence 
of truth and Poetry, was driven off by that artistic servility 
which manifested itself in the endeavour to copy, by 
rules and laws, that propensity and taste which had been 
the easy flowing, in another people, of a different genius* 
The spirit of the Greeks, during their prosperity, was 
essentially that of originality in all their ideas ; the spirit 
of the Romans, that of imitation, excepting the one 
prevailing sentiment of boundless ambition, which alone 
imparted a sensible degree of stern majesty to their 
writings. Hence the Romans never at any period obtained 
a national tragic drama, but descended to the brutal 
spectacles of gladiator and beast fighting for their tragic 
amusements. By this conduct their naturally noble feel- 
ings of bravery and generosity became desecrated, and 
their minds were ultimately rendered incompetent to 
appreciate the genuine virtue of Poetic essences. 

About 558, U.C., the Romans testified their rising zeal 
for science and classic lore, by sending, at the public 
expense, and in the name of their Senate and citizens' 
ten of their most noble men to proclaim, in ,the public 
assembly of the Isthmian games, a political freedom to 
all Greece, which had then lately succumbed before the 



58 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

united cunning and military prowess of Rome. This 
generous conduct of their masters perfectly intoxicated 
the giddy Greeks with an unexpected gleam of joy, and 
is certainly a highly redeeming point in the Roman 
character. 

And, notwithstanding all the corruptions and moral 
evils wherewith Rome was now infected, that spirit of 
improvement had taken hold on their intellect which was 
not easily to be put down. The arts and sciences had 
kept pace with the general activity of the nation. The 
rich had begun to find pleasure in them, and, by the 
patronage of the great, several authors were reared who 
infused a new under-current of feeling into the public 
taste. A passion for Poetry began to prevail. The 
charming versification of Lucretius ornamented and re- 
fined this period. This was a Poet of considerable parts, 
who attempted a new species of Poetry, in a scientific 
description of nature ; but, in spite of his acknowledged 
merits, the philosophy of his day was sufficiently false to 
spoil such an attempt. Neither are the critics willing to 
recognise this as the proper theme for the Poet ; they 
seem to think that the freedom of Poetry is at antagonism 
with the strict laws of Philosophy ; and, as philosophical 
tenets are frequently erroneous, the Poetry spent on the 
error is without doubt a waste of genius. 

"We now pass into the consulate of the great Cicero, and 
the triumvirate of Pompey, Cassar, and Crassus (U.C. 694), 
a time when the intellectual strength of Rome put forth 
the full vigour of its glory. Eloquence became the mighty 
means of public influence, whereby causes were gained, 
and the tyrants often kept in control. This period was 
illuminated by the genius of the above great men, as well 
as Cato, Antony, Brutus, and a host of others. The chief 
men of this age appear to have made good progress in the 






OF THE ANCIENTS. 59 

polite arts, and to have imitated the Greeks in quoting, 
without forethought or pre-arrangement, from the Poets 
such passages as fitted any particular occurrence or 
emergency in which they became engaged. These quota- 
tions were, of course, from the Grecian authors, as the 
Latin were not yet sufficiently established. The last 
words which Pompey "the Great" spake to his friends 
before he entered the company of the murderous Egyp- 
tians were these, from Sophocles : — 

"Who refuge seeks within a tyrant's door, 
When once he enters there, is free no more." 

Pompey, in his prosperity, built a large theatre, for the 
entertainment of the public in Music, gymnastics, and the 
combats of wild beasts. With his terrible slaughter of 
lions and of elephants the people were peculiarly delighted. 
He appears to have been very fortunate in winning lovely 
and loving wives. In the list of his wife Cornelia's o 

accomplishments, her proficiency in Music is particularly 
recorded. 

The Greek Poets were familiar to several of Pompey's 
friends also. When Favonius volunteered very cheerfully 
to act as the common servant to Pompey, an observer 
cried out from Euripides — 

" O, with what nameless grace the generous mind 
Fulfils whate'er its virtue has design'd !" 

Cicero, usually looked upon as an orator only, was also 
naturally and eminently a Poet. Plutarch says, he was 
born with that happy constitution which inclines to all 
kinds of learning ; but that, in his youth especially, his 
more peculiar propensity was for Poetry ; and in Plutarch's 
time there was still extant a tetrameter Poem called " Pon- 
tius Glaucus," which Cicero wrote when only a boy. He 
translated Aratus into verse when he was only seventeen 
years of age ; he wrote a Poem in celebration of Marius, 



s 



60 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS * 

which was much esteemed ; also a Poem, in three books- 
on his own consulship ; and is said to have been the most 
eminent Roman Poet of his own time ; but nearly the 
whole of his Poems are now lost. It is needless to say- 
how intimately he was acquainted with Greek literature : 
this source supplied him with much of the witty sarcasm 
in which he was accustomed to deal. In one instance^ 
he met a Roman gentleman in the street, along with his 
three anything but pretty daughters, and he immediately 
accosted them with the verse from Sophocles : — 

"An offspring raised against Apollo's will !" 

But, as may be expected, this practice caused him many 
enemies. In the latter part of his life, Cicero used Poetry 
as a recreation, and, when very intent on his subject, he 
could compose as much as five hundred verses in one 
night. It is probably this hasty profusion which has 
caused his Poems to be lost ; had he spent more time and 
care, there can be but little doubt that his great mind was 
capable of adjusting both the thoughts and the language 
of his themes to a very high polish. 

It was the custom of the virtuous and accomplished 
Marcus Brutus to quote the Greek classics without pre- 
meditation ; as, for instance, when, in his voluntary exile 
from Rome, his wife, Portia, being with him at Elea, by 
the sea coast, from whence she was shortly to depart 
home, and leave him behind, she was much distressed 
on that account ; and meeting, by chance, with a picture 
representing the separating of Hector and Andromache 
she could no longer restrain her tears, but walked often 
up and down the place to gaze on the painting. On 
seeing this, his friend Acilius quoted the verses from 
Homer wherein Andromache says — 

" Yet while my Hector still survives, I see 
My father, mother, brethren, all in thee." 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 61 

And Brutus instantly proved his intimacy with the old 
Poet by smiling, and saying, " I must not answer Portia 
as Hector did Andromache" — 

' Hasten to thy tasks at home, 



There guide the spindle and direct the loom.' " 

Pope. 
Omitting several instances like the above, he is remarkable 
for quoting, without anticipation, some appropriate 
passages from Euripides, immediately before his death, 
and while in the greatest distress of mind. Casting his 
eyes up to heaven, he cried 

" Punish, great Jove, the author of these ills." 

Brutus, when in his prosperity, was at especial care to 
provide magnificent public shows, games, beast fighting, 
and other spectacles for the amusement of the people in 
accordance with the general national taste. 

Antony, the great Roman general, but very licentious 
"inimitable liver," was a patron of those lower degrees of 
Poetry and the Drama which are the disgrace of the whole 
art. Those species of Music, Poetry, and buffoonery which 
are favourable to debauch and the gratification of the 
animal appetites were his delight. When he journeyed 
through Asia with a great army, he had with him, for 
amusement, a stupid set of Roman buffoons ; to whom he 
added other more refined comedians, harpers, flute-players, 
and the dancers from Greece and other countries that he 
visited. And the Ephesians, to gratify and court his 
revelling disposition, ushered him into their city with a 
procession of women dressed like the priestesses of Bacchus 
— with men and boys in the characters of fauns and satyrs, 
with ivy wreaths, pipes, harps, flutes, and songs. "When 
he and his dear Cleopatra were preparing for his last fatal 
war against Caesar, they spent some time at the Isle of 
Samos, in company with their numerous allied Kings, 

G 



bZ POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

Princes, and Governors ; and a proclamation having been 
made for the attendance of all musicians, singers, dancers, 
and comedians, the island was made to echo with noise 
and revelry, and the theatre was crowded with performers ; 
while the various Kings vied with each other in the exhi- 
bition of the most magnificent feasts and presents. At 
the conclusion of this singular carnival, Antony made a 
gift of Priene to the comedians and musicians, for a 
dwelling-place, and himself went to luxuriate in the 
theatrical entertainments of Athens. 

Even Cato the Censor, a churlish despiser of Grecian 
literature, in admiration of Scipio, cried out from the 
" Odyssey" — 

" In him alone the soul and sense remain ; 
The rest are fleeting forms and shadows vain." 
Book 10. 

"When Cato the Younger was about to marry Lepida, 
he was disappointed by the successful rivalry of Metellus 
Scipio ; and, out of revenge thereof, Cato wrote against 
Scipio some iambics, said to be equal in wit and satire to 
those of Archilochus, but of much superior morality. 

In 706 of the City, Julius Caesar obtained full power 
over Rome, and became her first Emperor, under whom 
the last sparks of popular liberty were extinguished, and 
the last principles of the Republic obliterated. Caesar was 
a practical Poet : during thirty-eight days that he was 
the prisoner of some pirates, he amused himself and them 
by writing verses and making speeches ; but the main 
bent of his mind was on more terrible deeds, although his 
whole life, if related truly in metre, would of itself be no 
mean article of Poetry. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 63 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE ROMANS CONTINUED. 

In the year of Rome 710, we come to the bloody triumviri 
of Antony, Augustus, and Lepidus, when most of the 
wealthiest, wisest, and best people of Rome were pro- 
scribed and murdered. At this period lived Virgil, the 
sweet Latin Poet, whose spirit was worth that of 10,000 
warriors, and whose gentle power was sufficient to obtain 
his petition from Augustus, who became sole Ruler of 
Rome in 725 U.C., on the death of Antony and his wife, 
the celebrated Cleopatra of Egypt. Also Horace, Ovid, 
and Livy added their mighty influence to the Augustan 
reign. 

The Augustan was the golden, the Saturnian era of 
Roman Literature, and, in the latter part thereof, of 
moral reformation also. Theatrical exhibitions had run 
to shameful excesses, but this Emperor restrained that 
vice with severe rigidity. He forbade the knights and 
the ladies of rank from appearing as public dancers in 
the manner they had been used to do ; he abolished the 
custom of the females being spectators of the athletic 
exercises of naked men ; and, although he was very 
partial to theatrical performances, he very strictly ex- 
amined the moral conduct of the actors, and imposed 
great restrictions upon the immodesty of gestures, which 



64 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

had become very common. His minister Mecasnas was 
a munificent patron of genius. Pollio, the Consul, is im- 
mortalized in the incomparable Poetry of Virgil's fourth 
Eclogue. This is a very remarkable production : first, in 
regard to the sublimity and beauty of its composition ; 
and, secondly, in its singular coincidence with the most 
important fact of that period — namely, its prophetic 
announcement of the birth of our Saviour. It appears 
that, by some means, the Sybilline Oracles had got hold 
of the prophecy that " about this time a child would be 
born who should rule the earth, and establish continual 
peace." It is supposed by many that Virgil, in order to 
court favour, interprets this oracle to signify the child 
Marcellus, the nephew of Augustus by Octavia, and thence 
goes on to paint a beautiful picture of the Golden Age, 
which he supposes to be just commencing under the 
influence of Augustus, Antony, Octavia, &c. But the 
general ideas of the piece, considering that it is in a 
heathen dress, correspond so precisely with the prophecy 
of Isaiah, that there is great reason to believe that the 
Sybils had somehow borrowed it from the Jews, and that 
Virgil, unwittingly, celebrates the approaching birth of 
the child Emmanuel. The Jews had then a general 
expectation of a great deliverer being shortly born to 
them. Virgil is very positive as to the time ; he says — 

" Teque ade6 decus hoc sevi, te consule, inibit, 
Pollio ; et incipient magni procedere menses." 
(And in your consulship, Pollio, in yours, shall this so great glory 
of the age make his entry, and the renowned months begin to roll.) 

And it is a singular fact, that our Saviour was born, if not 
in the consulship of Pollio, yet within the reign of the 
present Ruler, Augustus, when the temple of Janus was 
shut, and all the world had ceased from the clashing of 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 65 

After Augustus succeeded Tiberius Cassar, a wretch of 
refined barbarity and debauchery : his reign began U.C., 
767, or A.D. 15. Under hini Sextus Vestilius was executed 
for the overt crime of writing a satire against Caligula 
although it is supposed that his virtue was his real fault 
with the tyrant ; and Mamercus Scaurus was driven to 
suicide, in order to avoid being slain, for none other sin 
than having written a Tragedy founded on the story of 
Atreus, which the tyrant's conscience applied rather 
stingingly to himself. Under such usage Literature could 
not but, in some measure, begin to shrink from her 
mission. 

Caligula, the fourth Emperor, obtained power A.D. 39, 
and was, perhaps, the most perfect brute that ever swayed 
the sovereign power over any mighty nation. There can 
be but little doubt of his partial insanity. His critical 
acumen may be inferred from the fact, that he condemned 
Virgil's Poetry and discarded Livy's History, although 
other people have regarded them as the pride of Roman 
Literature. But, what is singular in such a constitution, 
he had a liking for Singing. The Senators and young 
Nobility sang his praises in a public procession to the 
Capitol. In his pleasures he was attended by exquisite 
Singers, and was at last assassinated when about being 
entertained with the singing of a band of Grecian children, 
on the fourth day of the Palatine Games. 

After the Emperor Claudius was poisoned by his wife, 
Agrippina, and her physician, A.D. 55, Nero, the son of 
that infamous woman by a former marriage, obtained the 
Empire. When he had thrown off his youthful restraint, 
and assumed his natural character, he was another of 
those inhuman monsters whose biography is a blot upon 
the general history of mankind, and of whom Rome un- 
fortunately produced too many ; and yet, although he was 

g 2 



66 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

a cruel vindictive tyrant and unnatural debauchee, he 
had a strong and curious disposition towards harmony 
and the polite arts, which, but for the lowering com- 
bination of his beastly propensities, might have made an 
honourable addition to society. Even his revenge and 
his vices were tinctured with the unusual mixture of the 
refined arts ; as, for instance, when he wished to mortify 
his wicked and mischievous mother, he sent a band of 
the common rabble to sing satirical songs and insulting 
language, addressed to her from under her windows. He 
inherited from childhood a passion for Music and Poetry, 
and spent considerable exertions, under good masters, to 
obtain a proficiency in Singing, in order to appear upon 
the Stage in the character of a theatrical performer. 

He was equally ambitious of being a Poet, but could not 
submit himself to that rigid study and close application 
which are necessary to proficiency, and, in all probability, 
was not organized with a sufficient vis Poetica to shine in 
that sublime art. In order to gratify his Poetic ambition, 
he obtained from a number of his courtier-wits such 
verses as each could compose, and, stringing them all 
together, he dignified the medley with the title of a 
Poem ! One might suppose that this was done as a 
parody on the collection of the Homeric Poems, or else 
that he cherished the infatuation that his work should 
rival the great Grecian prototype ! 

The theatrical tour of this incongruously organized 
being is one of the most singular artistic adventures on 
record. He became truly mad in his ambition to rival 
the regular performers ! His determinate thirst for praise 
was such as to induce him to use all the mean arts of the 
common actors to obtain his purpose ! 

The Greeks were now under the rule of Rome, and it 
was, therefore, at once the craft, the interest, and even 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 67 

the necessity of that people to obtain the good-will of the 
Roman Emperors. As Nero's weakness happened to run 
into their own peculiar channel of refinement, the Grecians 
very wittily resolved to send him musical crowns, as the 
honours of all their games ; and their ambassadors courted 
Nero's vanity so artfully that he determined on a tour into 
the classic land, because he considered that none other 
people were so worthy of his attention. He consequently 
spent a year in journeying through Greece, attended by 
a great host of Singers, Musicians, dancers, and other 
theatricals. The Greeks gratified his vanity to the full 
by bestowing on him 1800 crowns, as the marks of his 
superiority, no one being foolish enough to contest the 
prizes seriously with the half-mad Emperor, excepting one 
vain man, whose talents cost him his life, by opposing 
Nero too successfully. 

On his return, he entered Rome with the greatest 
magnificence, being crowned with wild olive, the con- 
queror's garland in the Olympic games. He held the 
crown of the Pythian games in his hand, while the other 
1800 crowns were carried in the procession before him, 
and he was attended by Musicians and Singers, in number 
like an army of soldiers, whose business was to resound 
the praise of the "conquering hero" in the midst of 
sacrificed victims, and displays of childish adorations 
rendered to him almost incredible. 

It would have been well for the subjects of Nero had he 
practised nothing more really injurious and base than the 
above insanities. Unfortunately, his mind afterwards 
soured into the most savage excesses of cruelty. When 
he became sated with theatrical honours, he sought other 
more horrid pleasures. He is generally supposed by 
historians to have set the city of Rome on fire, for the 
strange gratification of seeing a resemblance of the 



68 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

destruction of Troy ; and, during the conflagration, he 
expressed his delight by repeating, in all the frenzy of 
theatrical pomp, and in a common actor's dress, some 
verses on the Trojan catastrophe ; but, finding himself 
suspected and disliked on this account, he charged the 
incendiary outrage upon the Christians, who were become 
numerous in Rome at that time. Hence that poor devoted 
body was doomed to suffer all the persecution of a pre- 
judiced and exasperated populace, who, though jealous of 
the real offender, were willing to wreak their vengeance 
on the Christians, because the doctrines of their religion 
were antipodes to popular opinions, and because the austere 
virtues thereby rigidly enforced were offensive to the deep 
and general corruption of that period. Under this visita- 
tion of wicked ignorance St. Paul was beheaded, and St. 
Peter crucified. This latter disciple, having choice of the 
manner in which he should be executed, chose to exceed 
the shameful death of his Master by being crucified with 
his head downwards. 

Now also fell, through the jealousy of the tyrant, two 
honourable men of Literature — Seneca, the famous philo- 
sopher, who had been tutor to his inhuman murderer, 
and Lucan the Poet, who was nephew to Seneca. Pen- 
torius was put to death under the cruelties of this period, 
and, being of the Epicurean philosophy, he endeavoured 
to exhibit his ease of mind under suffering by many 
frivolities, and, amongst others, by listening to the 
recitation of some light Poems, even while iu the act of 
dying. 

And the furious, blood-thirsty Emperor manifested his 
Musical infatuation to the last ; for, in the midst of that 
rebellion which rid the world of so mean and inexplicable 
a tyrant, he displayed this one of his ruling passions, by 
showing to the Senate some new instruments which were 



OF THE ANCIENTS. b\) 

to be played upon by water, and, explaining their 
nature, said, sneeringly, that, with the permission of 
Vindex, the chief revolter, he hoped to exhibit this 
instrument upon the theatre. But the miserable wretch 
was disappointed, not only in the amount of his danger, 
but also in his premeditated performance. 

His madness grew still more manifest every day ; when 
he was obliged to think of going out to subdue his enemy, 
one of his first cares was to provide waggons for the safe 
carriage of his musical instruments, wherewith he promised 
that he would most certainly appear on the stage after his 
victory. In the extremity of his revolutionary distresses, 
the care of his voice for singing was uppermost in his 
mind ; for, although he could give his attendance to the 
theatre, he durst not take a journey for the welfare of his 
empire, through fear of increasing a hoarseness which had 
settled on him ! 

In his latest moments, when the enemy had hunted him 
down like a fox to his cover, and came upon him for his 
life, one of his friends, whom he had urged to flee with 
him from the pursuing destruction, showed his acquaint- 
ance with Poetry by replying to the terrors of Nero in the 
words of Virgil — 

" Usque adeone mori niiserum est ?" 
" Is death, then, such a misfortune ?" 

But it mostly happens that tyrants are cowards, and it 
was eminently so with this despicable tormentor of his 
own species. 

During the reign of Nero, in the year of our Lord 61 
was born that polished gentleman and accomplished 
scholar, Pliny the Younger. He was particularly attached 
to the Muses. Even while at home, under private tutors, 
at the age of fourteen, being yet too young to enter the 
public schools, he is reported to have written a Greek 



70 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

Tragedy. He seems never to have been idle, but con- 
tinually occupied with a congenial mixture of Literature 
and business, being, in this respect, a pattern peculiarly 
befitting the study of young men. During his return from 
a Spanish expedition, he was detained by adverse winds 
in the Isle of Icaria ; on which occasion he exemplified his 
philosophical industry by quietly sitting down to write 
Latin Elegies on the place and the circumstances of his 
detention ; and, although he was singularly successful in 
all the departments of private and public life, yet the 
love of Poesy always had over him a powerful influence. 
Even his prose writings, especially the Epistles, possess 
much of the spirit and witchery of Poetry, independent of 
his frequent Poetic quotations and allusions. His Epistle 
to Socius Senecio is interesting, both in regard to his own 
taste and the customs of the Romans. He tells us that 
they then had so great a produce of Poets, that scarcely 
one day during the month of April passed without some 
new public rehearsal. Then he complains of the lazy 
disposition of the people at that time towards these ex- 
hibitions of talent, which were so pleasant to himself ; he 
says that they assemble tardily, some simply to idle away 
their time, ask foolish questions, and then loiter out again ; 
or some even sneak off slily, at which double dealing he is 
much annoyed. He also takes a glance back, and informs 
us that this public indifference did not prevail in the time 
of Claudius Caesar, the next preceding to Nero, at which 
time the multitudes used to run to the rehearsals with a 
great clamour. There is no doubt that a gladiator or a 
beast-fight was generally more congenial than the fine arts 
to the breeding of the Roman populace. Pliny frequently 
complains of the moral and literary degeneracy of his time, 
and especially observes that great attainments were even 
dangerous during the reign of Nero. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 71 

The Epistles of Pliny are almost a history of Poetry 
for his era. To Euritius he descants on the elegance and 
spirit that are conspicuous in the verses of his friend 
Pompeius Saturninus, which, he says, are equal to those 
of Catullus or Calvus. Another of his friends, Titinius 
Capito, was industrious in celebrating the lives and actions 
of great men with excellent verses. On the funeral of 
Virginius Rufus, our author reckons, amongst other happy 
circumstances of his life, the fact that he lived to see 
Poems written in praise of his great actions, and to read 
his own history. To a friend, Octavius, he writes a 
sharpish stricture on his foolish bashfulness in retaining 
unreasonably long his Poems from the public. Pliny 
strenuously urges Octavius to a formal recital in open 
assembly, which, it appears, that himself had already 
practised ; and, after recital, he would have this friend 
to collect and publish his pieces in one volume, lest 
some other person should get hold of them, and put them 
forth in a barbarous manner. 

In writing to Calvisius, Pliny mentions a hearty old man, 
Spurinna, who, to his seventy-seventh year, was cheerfu^ 
enough to write Lyric Songs, and be amused at supper 
with the rehearsals of Comedians. This same old hero was 
also industrious both in private and public duties, and 
altogether such an one, that Pliny says he does not know 
any other person whom he should so much like to emulate. 
Then he tells Caninius of another amusing old gentleman 
Silius Italicus, who, amongst a multitude of books and 
statues, for which he had a great reverence, esteemed 
those of Virgil with especial veneration, and celebrated 
the anniversaries of the birth-day of that Poet with more 
solemnity than his own ; on which occasions he visited, at 
Naples, a monument of Virgil, as a temple for worship. 
This Virgilian devotee was Nero's last consul, being in 



72 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

office when that Emperor died. Pliny writes an entire 
letter to Spurinna and Coccia, about some verses which 
himself had written on the death of their son. 

This kind and accomplished writer always appears 
veiy happy when he has an opportunity of praising his 
Poetic acquaintances. Among other instances of this 
character, his Epistle to Proculus is remarkable for good 
feeling and pleasure in giving approval. He acknowledges 
the encouragement which Tully gave to Poets ; he 
declares his own veneration for Poetry, even to a religious 
feeling ; and then goes on to express many fine com- 
mendations on the performances of his friend. He writes 
a very laudatory letter on the death of his Poetic friend, 
Valerius Martial, and takes especial care to approve his 
wit and Poetry. In praise of Antonius's Greek epigrams 
and iambics, he uses many kind words, wondering, among 
the rest, how a Roman can come to be so finished a 
Grecian ! and affirms that he envies the Greeks, for that 
Antonius has chosen to write Poetry in their language ! 
In another Epistle, as a proof of his deep interest in those 
Epigrams, he says that he has been imitating them in 
Latin ; and again he writes to say that he continues to 
find still greater worth in those Poems than he at first 
saw, by his inability to imitate them successfully. To 
Falco he expresses his great satisfaction on hearing the 
rehearsal of a young Poet, Sentius Augustinus, whom he 
sets forth as a successful writer, and a credit to their 
times. A similar circumstance gives him occasion for an 
Epistle to Spurinna, whom he informs that, on the same 
day whereon he wrote, he had been an auditor to the 
rehearsal of an excellent Poem by Calphurnius Piso, a 
young gentleman of quality and refinement. He thinks 
this Poet well calculated to support the credit of the 
age, for which he expresses his anxiety lest it should be 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 73 

unfruitful in the arts. From another rehearsal, he com- 
municates an amusing story to Romanus. He says that 
Passienus Paulus, a Roman Knight of great breeding and 
learning, and a writer of Elegies, when beginning to read 
his work in public assembly was ridiculously interrupted. 
The piece began thus : — 

" Priscus, do you command ?" 

And upon hearing this, one Jabolenus Priscus, a man of 
official consequence, but rather questionable understanding, 
quickly answered, 

" No ! I command nothing !" 
Upon this response, Pliny says, you may imagine what a 
burst of laughter and mirth pervaded the audience. At 
one time our great Poetic admirer expresses his strong 
resentment against some auditors who had conducted 
themselves in a sullen manner towards a public reciter 
of a superior work. And as one more instance of Pliny's 
liberal praise, we find him writing to Caninius in honour 
of Virginius's Comedy, written in imitation of Meander 
and others of the old Greek school, with much success. 
But, in spite of the excellences which Pliny enumerates, 
he observes that the Comedian had but a thin audience, 
which is another instance, among many more, of the dis- 
taste of the Romans in general for literary amusements. 
Had the performer been able to introduce a few car- 
nivorous animals and gladiators to work out his play, he 
would have found his audience to swell enormously. 

We meet with repeated information of Pliny's personal 
activity in Literature, especially his devotion to Rhetoric 
and the Muses. In addition to the instances already 
mentioned, we have him referring to those matters, more 
or less, in almost every epistle. His general studies are 
frequently mentioned, and of the Poetic, out of many 
more instances, take the two following : — To Paternus, 

H 



74 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

who expected one of his orations, he sends, instead 
thereof, what he calls his Phaleucic Verses, and says that 
with these he amuses his leisure time in his chariot, at 
the bath, or at supper ; and in them he expresses his 
mirth, love, sorrow, complaints, anger, and such like 
feelings, in a variety of strains. The next and last I 
shall quote respecting Pliny's own studies and habits 
is a remarkable Epistle to Aristo, who has informed him 
that several friends in a meeting at the house of Aristo, 
had conversed freely on Pliny's habit of writing and 
repeating verses ; and that they went so far as to express 
wonder why he should practise such things ; but instead 
of shrinking from the accusation, he at once informs his 
friend that he writes comedies, hears and sees mimics, 
reads lyrics, enjoys satire, laughs, jokes, and makes merry, 
so as to indulge in all innocent relaxations. He is not 
much concerned for the strictures of his critics, and he 
justifies his Poetic indulgence by the example of some of 
the illustrious dead of his own countrymen ; the living 
he names not, in order to avoid any suspicion of flattery. 
He thinks it cannot be scandalous in him to cultivate the 
arts that were nursed by M. Tully, C. Calvus, A. Pollio, 
M. Messala, Q. Hortensius, M. Brutus, L. Sulla, Q. Catullus, 
Q. Scaevola, Ser. Sulpitius, Varro, Torquatus, the Torquati, 
Memmicus, Lentulus, Gaatulicus, Anngeus, Seneca, Luceius, 
Virginius Rufus, Julius Caesar, Augustus, Nerva, T. Caesar, 
P. Virgilius, C. Nepos, Ennius, and Atticus. Such is the 
list of those whose practices Pliny thought were a sufficient 
apology for his own Poetic bias ; on Nero's extravagance 
he makes the apt remark, that any subject is of no less 
intrinsic value because that it may happen to be employed 
by a bad man. 

Adrian, the nephew of Trajan, who obtained the throne 
A.D. 117, is remarkable, amongst other things, for his 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 75 

learning and encouragement of the arts. He was a good 
Greek and Latin scholar, an expert lawyer, and well 
skilled in oratory and the philosophy of that period, in 
physic, and in mathematics; and, what refers more par- 
ticularly to our present inquiry, he was a sweet Singer 
and respectable Poet. Yet this Emperor was by no means 
clear from vice, and was vain enough to consider himself 
a master in all arts and sciences ; he would argue with 
the learned men on any subject, and it was dangerous for 
any to oppose him too closely. Indeed, Adrian's literary 
merit was undoubtedly considerable. He suffered much 
pain before death, and expired while repeating the 
following verses, which his sufferings had dictated : — 

"Animula, vagula, blandula, 

Hospes, comesque corporis, 

Quae nunc abibis in loca ? 

Pallidula, rigida, nudula, 

Nee, ut soles, dabis jocos ?" 
These lines are remarkable for the employing of endearing 
diminutives, which our language neither has nor admits of. 
These peculiarities are not easily represented in English. 
The reader will perhaps excuse the following attempt : — 

O, little free and gentle soul, 

Guest and companion of my body, 

Whither, now, shalt thou depart ? 

Pale, stiff, and naked, 

Wilt thou or not, as wont, pass jokes or be merry ? 

It is worthy of notice, that Adrian distinguishes soul from 
body in the first part ; but afterwards applies epithets to the 
soul which can only belong to the body — paleness, rigidity, 
&c, wherein we discover the dimness of a heathen's con- 
ception. Mr. Pope, by a free paraphrastical translation, 
renders the above soliloquy into verse thus : — 
" Oh ! fleeting spirit, wandering fire, 

That long hast warm'd my tender breast ; 
Wilt thou no more my frame inspire ; 

No more a pleasing, cheerful guest ? 



76 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

Whither, ah ! whither, art thou flying ? 

To what dark, undiscover'd shore ? 
Thou seem'st all trembling, shivering, dying, 

And wit and humour are no more." 

Whatever virtue there may be in the various systems 
and creeds which distract the religious world, this is, at 
least, a most painful degree of doubt and uncertainty for a 
death-bed. The intellect is groping a strange road in the 
dark ; at such moments the lamp of Christianity is surely 
a boon, and her hope, even to an infidel or a heathen, in 
the comparison, must appear truly rational. 

Titus Antonius, surnamed Pius, succeeded Adrian A.D. 
138. He was a liberal supporter of the Christian religion, 
and a cultivator of the arts and sciences ; he was munifi- 
cent in his pensions and honours to learned men, of whom 
he drew as many as he possibly could to Rome. 

In A.D. 161, Marcus Aurelius, otherwise called Antonius 
the Philosopher, received the empire. He was himself 
virtuous and well accomplished, but much annoyed by the 
vices of Lucius Verus, who reigned conjointly with him 
for awhile. Aurelius paid an often-repeated honour to the 
refinement of Greece. He visited Athens, and encouraged 
her learned men by all the means in his power. He 
appointed professors for every department of science, and 
awarded them liberal salaries. But the corrupting prin- 
ciples of successful luxury had entered too deeply into the 
vitals of Romish society for the virtues of an individual 
to bear up the drooping Empire. The original energy 
and stern spirit of Rome was departed ; she had become 
enfeebled by a too great expansion of her power ; her 
citizens were enervated by debauch, and her overgrown 
territories were plundered by the constant ravages of the 
hardy barbarians ; in short, it is at this stage becoming 
evident that Rome is doomed to sink intellectually and 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 77 

morally, and that the pride of empire must, by-and-by, be 
transferred to some more competent power. 

It would be wearying and uninstructive to wade through 
all the declining passages of this falling nation ; it will be 
sufficient for our present purpose to take but one or two 
more glimpses from her downward progress. 

Alexander, a Prince of rare merit, commenced his reign 
A.D. 222. He was virtuous and well accomplished, which 
qualities he owed mostly to his virtuous mother, Mammsea. 
He was well taught in geometry, mathematics, music, 
sculpture, and painting, and was a Poet equal to any of 
that age. He drove back the enemies who daily were 
now boldly encroaching on his dominions. But he was 
too good for the general declension of manners, and the 
soldiers destroyed him because they were too debauched to 
endure his reformed discipline. After him follows about a 
century of discord and retrogression, which carries us on 
to the days of Constantine. 

Constantine was appointed to succeed to the government 
by his dying father A.D. 311. He was a pious Emperor, 
and gave full freedom and protection to the Christians, 
who had suffered the most shameful severities during 
many of the preceding reigns. He also exerted all his 
power for the renovation of learning, which had become 
nearly extinct. 

From the time of Trajan there had been a perfect 
stagnation of Literature until about now, that the 
Christian authors began to effect a wonderful influence 
on the general mind. The Bible was translated into the 
Latin tongue, and the celestial light of Hebrew Poetry 
flashed like the electric glare across the atmosphei'e of 
Roman intellect, which, combining with the zeal and 
industry of the devoted Christians, produced a new and 
almost richer harvest than had been known in Italy, 

h 2 



78 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

The slumbering genius of Eome was awakened ; it 
stretched itself, and soared forth after the visions of 
Oriental Melodies, and became an imitator of Hebrew 
Poetry. This circumstance begat an agreeable variety, 
and adorned with extra grace the closing scene of 
Roman Literature. 

The consequence of the Christian Religion was very- 
marked upon all Roman Literature. Its effect on Poetry, 
in particular, was that of transferring it from the expres- 
sion of heroic and mythologic paganism to the development 
of hymns and spiritual songs, in imitation of the Poetry of 
the Jews ; and, however feeble the spirit of the age had 
become, it could not but feel the invigorating power of 
those grand patterns that were now made accessible for 
the first time. 

Such were the great and beneficial religious and literary 
movements of Constantine's reign ; but his policy of 
removing the seat of government to Constantinople has 
been regarded as unhappily instrumental in the destruction 
of the Empire ; and from this time it is useless for us to 
pursue any further the subject of our inquiry. Rome 
returned to barbarism, and her territories were taken into 
the possession of the powers of darkness ! "We are already 
advanced to a lower period in the course of Literature 
than that from which we borrow our classic models : the 
glory of the former ages of the Hebrews, Greeks, and 
Romans now lay eclipsed for awhile ; the intellectual 
light of man seemed to be gone down into darkness, 
until the degenerate minds of the nations in after time, 
like the returning prodigal, sought for the spirit of their 
fathers, and drew out, from many obscure recesses, the 
sublime works of the generations of yore ! 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 



71? 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE GRECIAN DRAMA— ITS RISE AND PROGRESS. 

In order to preserve entirely free from interruption, the 
string of incidents in the Poetic and Musical Customs of 
the Ancients, I have reserved for this separate considera- 
tion the nature, rise, and progress of the Grecian Drama, 
with some personal notices of a few of the chief dramatic 
authors. By this means the Drama will be better under- 
stood than it could be if mixed up in the general notice of 
common popular events, given in a cursory and promiscuous 
narration. Besides this, the Drama of the Greeks is so 
peculiar, that it were not easy to amalgamate it with any 
other article. 

Irrespective of national peculiarities, the essential spirit 
of any Drama is a universal talent common to all men. It 
consists in our propensity to imitation, and, like all the 
other imitative arts, grows spontaneously from the mind 
under favourable circumstances, and, by those same cir- 
cumstances, is moulded into various shapes. Hence all 
nations, even the rudest, exhibit more or less of this 
Dramatic disposition, in some approach to a scenical 
representation of the several modes and manners of 
society. The old Peruvians, the Chinese, the ancient 
Indians, and the ancient Grecians, though each isolated 
from the others, had yet each and all their own peculiar 



80 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

sort of Dramatic performances ; and we meet with the 
same art, in its crude state, in the grotesque mimicry 
and buffoonery almost everywhere observable amongst 
the South Sea Islanders, the North American Indians, 
and many more. 

The Dramatic propensity, so common to all nations, is 
as varied in its forms of development as are the habits 
and the degrees of activity in its different cultivators. 
That intellectual spark, which could scarcely brighten the 
eye of an ancient pagan-bound Egyptian, would set the 
whole of Greece in a blaze ; and so in proportion was the 
effect in all places, according to the specific condition of 
the mind observable in the several divisions of the human 
family. 

And although Dramatic imitation is an inherent quality 
of our nature, and, therefore, beyond the reach of history, 
yet the progressive and classic manifestation of this prin- 
ciple is a subject of very pleasing historical research. In 
this inquiry it is usual to remount to the early ages of 
Greece, the most famous habitation of the Muses ; and 
with us this is the proper course, inasmuch as Greece is 
the original garden whence we chiefly imported the seeds 
of our literary glory, and the Grecian Drama is certainly 
the precursor of our own. We are, then, at once led back 
to the rural sports and the rude mythology of the aboriginal 
Greeks. This people, of an especial lively and energetic 
character, had, in common with nearly all nations, their 
established rural festivals and sports, fixed for the purpose 
of marking particular national events and the seasons of 
the year, like our May-day sports, our harvest-home, our 
Christmas festivities, and our village feasts. 

These periodical rural feasts were then, as they are to 
this day, the simple and rude overflowings of pleasure, 
resulting from either the blessings of a fruitful season, or 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 81 

the recollections of previous benefits and old associations. 
With the Greeks these festivals were always held in the 
name and for the honour of that god who was considered 
to preside over the particular object of then- rejoicings ; 
and as their supposed gods were many, so were their festi- 
vals numerous, and through the rapid succession thereof was 
engendered their habit of vehement national enthusiasm. 

In the feasts of Dionysos, or Bacchus, the favourite deity 
of the vineyard, solemn hymns or devotional odes were 
sung, accompanied with Music and dancing, around the 
altar and sacrifices ; then mysterious rites and ceremonies 
were performed in adoration of that divinity. These 
hymns or songs, distinguished by the name of Dithyramb, 
were necessarily of a lofty, serious character, expressive 
of reverence or devotion. This was the religious or more 
orderly part of the festival. The writers of the Dithyramb 
were styled the Dithyrambic Poets. 

Next came the devotions of the populace, or rude 
merriment of the rustic multitude, of whose nature we 
may easily form a tolerably correct idea. The character 
and rites of this deity were peculiarly inviting to the 
common rabble, and even the better part of a rural 
population was easily warmed by a Bacchanalian carousal ; 
and all descriptions of grotesque buffoonery and raillery 
were the usual consequence. One portion of these public 
ceremonies consisted of the Phallic procession, the very 
perfection of obscenity, in which the coarse Phallic Song 
resounded from the lips of the Phallophori, or drunken 
men, who acted this lewd custom. 

The third and completing class of performers in these 
singular assemblies consisted of Fauns and Satyrs, or men 
dressed in fantastic mummery to represent supposed 
beings, who, under these names, were thought to attend 
upon Bacchus for his amusement and other services. 



oZ THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

To these three sets of characters we are indebted for the 
present peculiar forms of our Drama. The Satyrs first 
assumed other dresses, appearances, and characters than 
their own. The goat, as a mischievous enemy to the 
vineyard, was sacrificed to the god of wine, and the 
skin served for dressing up the Satyrs ; the horns being 
erected into the appearance of upright ears. Thus dis- 
guised, this band of extraordinary beings amused the 
country people by all manner of extemporaneous antics 
and waggery. At length these performers improved upon 
their spontaneous witticisms, and held a kind of set 
discourse, in keeping with the general tenure of their 
peculiar devotions. These companies, called Satyric Cho- 
ruses, at length, arriving at a little polish and excellence 
of their art, began to vie, village against village, and 
district against district, for the pre-eminence in this 
profession, as we may now call it. The prize for the 
successful competitors was a goat, which, in the Greek 
tongue, is named ttagos ; and the song or vocal perform- 
ance was thence called Tragou Ode, or Goat Song. It 
seems to be not quite settled amongst the learned whether 
this term was originally applied to the Choruses of the 
Dionysia, who contended for the goat as a prize, or 
whether it was used on account of the Dithyramb, being 
sung round the altar and the sacrificed goat ; but as the 
two are so nearly allied, this distinction is of small 
consequence. 

After a little excitement of this meaner rivalry, more 
worthy prizes were given, and greater efforts were used 
by the competitors. In the august Dithyramb, or sacred 
ode, a bull was awarded to the victor ; to the Phallophori, 
or the disgusting Phallic Singers, were given a basket of 
figs and a vessel of wine ; whilst the Satyric Choruses were 
left in quiet possession of their emblematic goat. Thus 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 83 

originated the public games and the Theatrical exhibitions, 
which, with sundry variations and improvements, so capti- 
vated the active-minded Greeks ; and which, in the course 
of ages, descended to us, through many innovations, into 
the established form of our present Theatre. From the 
compound name Trag-odia was derived the permanent 
name Tragedy, which has always since that time attached 
to the more serious dramatic performances. 

These Dionysian exhibitions existed at an early date in 
the Doric cities of Greece, where they were cultivated by 
many Poets, of whom Archilochus of Paros, one of the 
first regular composers in the Dramatic art, flourished 
about 700 years B.C. ; and the Dithyramb had then 
received considerable polish. This sacred ode was now 
accompanied with Music, dancing, and other developments 
of great artistic skill ; whilst the metre or verbal com- 
position of the piece itself had become a matter of much 
taste. Prom the dancing of the Choristers in a circle 
round the altar, on which the goat was immolated, these 
games or devotions received the name of Cyclic. 

After this assumption of regular theatrical characters, 
which the Satyric Choruses sustained,* whilst acting 
publicly for the amusement of the multitude that collected 
about them, we soon trace the next step of Dramatic 
progress, in some improvements introduced by Thespis, 
who, according to Plutarch, was contemporary with Solon, 
one of the seven sages. He imported into Athens so 
many novelties, chiefly from the Dorian cities, that if he 
was not the introducer of the first rudiments, he was so 
far an improver as to be frequently called the inventor of 
the Greek Drama. He began to exhibit 535 years before 
Christ. Thespis, observing the difficulty under which the 
Satyric Chorus laboured, in maintaining a continuous 
discourse without any interruption or relief, introduced 



84 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

a sort of interlude in the performance. By incessant 
jesting, merry-making, and discoursing, the Satyrists were 
necessarily both fatigued and worked out of matter, whilst 
their audience was also wearied for want of change. The 
interruptions put into the old system by this new actor 
were calculated to remedy both these inconveniences. 
Under this variation, the leader of the Chorus came 
forward, at certain intervals, and made a recitation, a 
performance of some character, or a relation of some 
incident, which, though not essential to the original 
story of the entertainment, was such as could naturally 
enough be grafted thereon ; hence these digressions are 
called Episodes (from the Greek epi, upon ; eis, into ; and 
odos, a way). At the close of each Episode or interlude, 
the Chorus resumed its original performance. Presently 
another progressive step of improvement was obtained, by 
causing the leader and the Choristers to mutually question 
and answer each other in a sort of dialogue, and also for 
the Chorus to break in with applause, or sympathetic 
exclamations, during the narrative of the leader. 

By these several steps the Drama became considerably 
expanded, and partially polished ; and, in place of the old 
Bacchanalian themes, many historical, traditional, and 
mythological subjects were exhibited. In order to the 
better assumption of the divers characters represented in 
the Drama, Thespis contrived to fix pieces of linen over 
part of his face, and otherwise altered his countenance 
with vermilion, wine-lees, a preparation from purslain, 
and other pigments. From these circumstances, the 
invention of the Mask has been ascribed to him ; but 
that was, probably, the introduction of the Poet iEschylus 
at a later period. 

Thespis also invented for the Chorus some sportive and 
energetic dances which were in much favour during more 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 85 

than a century ; Music and Songs were added, and the 
whole tenure of the exhibition was brought to bear more 
than heretofore upon one plot or design, and thus was 
prepared the plan for a regular Dramatic composition. 

The introduction of these, and other similar novelties, 
into the city of Athens, made a great excitement in the 
public mind, and multitudes of hearers nocked after the 
new Dramatic wonders. We are told that Solon, now an 
old man, but still fond of hearing, learning, and enjoying 
himself, went to witness the performance of Thespis ; but 
as it was too ludicrous to fall in with his views of truth, 
he asked Thespis, at the conclusion of the play, whether 
he were not ashamed to tell so many lies before the com- 
pany. Thespis answered that he thought it no wrong to 
tell them in jest. Solon struck the ground violently with 
his staff, and replied that, if such jesting were allowed 
and commended, it would very soon interrupt their serious 
affairs. Nevertheless, the laughter-seeking populace con- 
stantly followed the merry-making Satyrs, and the Thespian 
entertainments were greatly encouraged. Our dramatic 
hero then used a sort of wain or carriage, whereon his 
actors and choruses were stationed for greater convenience 
and elevation. Now, also, prizes were more systematically 
contended for in Athens by the Tragedians ; and that 
strong spirit of emulation was excited which soon carried 
the Grecian Drama to comparative perfection. 

The next party to be noticed, in the progressive develop- 
ment of the Greek Theatre, is Phrynichus. He was the 
pupil of Thespis, and first began to exhibit for himself 511 
years before Christ. He discarded the jesting buffoonery 
of the Thespian Chorus, and incorporated into the im- 
proved machinery of the Satyric Drama the noble ode of 
the Dithyramb, and by this union made a respectable 
advance towards the legitimate Tragedy. The Satyric 



Bb- THE POETrC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

Chorus afforded the popular form, and the august Sacred 
Ode imparted the loftier style and sentiments, which, 
together, created a respectable Drama. He also forsook 
the hackneyed themes of Bacchic history, and introduced 
any other interesting plot or story which afforded a new 
field for his adventurous spirit. This was assuming a sort 
of aristocratic position, which did not exactly fall in with 
the wishes of the common people, who pined somewhat 
after their merry, unrestrained, and capricious Satyrs. It 
is worthy of remembrance that the Drama or festivals here 
spoken of belonged, originally, exclusively to the peasants 
and their rustic acquaintance, who joined them in their 
displays of mirth and joy at the gathering of the vintage ; 
and the intoxicating produce of the vine being largely 
indulged in, the unavoidable consequence was much riot 
and fantastic commotion. This is the reason why the 
worship of Bacchus, the god of the vine, was at once the 
most noisy, the most popular, and the most cultivated of 
the devotions rendered to any of the deities. Hence it is- 
natural to expect that any restraining innovations which 
were calculated to check this vulgar enthusiasm, would be 
but ill received by the general multitude, however great 
their real merit. The next more popular festivals of the 
Athenians were those dedicated to the worship of Ceres, 
the goddess of the harvest, and of the Panathenaea, 
devoted to Minerva, the patron goddess of the city of 
Athens. Both of these were peculiarly inviting to the 
people, and, therefore, were observed with much splendour ; 
but the vehement character of the Bacchic exhibition 
outran all the others, and ultimately produced the regular 
and classical Greek Plays. 

The disuse of the old Bacchic themes and antics, and 
the substitution in their place of heroic plots, with stories 
of more universal interest, was a most important act of 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 87 

Phrynichus. This might be termed the birth of the true 
Tragedy, as it formed the essence of the Classic Drama. 
The Dramatic Poets, thus set at liberty from their com- 
pletely worn-out Bacchanalian subjects, were left to soar 
up and down in the region of intellect ; and to appropriate 
to their own purpose the most imposing events of fact or 
of fiction. To the prosecution of this course, Phrynichus 
is supposed to have been under great obligations to the 
Homeric Poems, which had just been collected, revised, 
and published in regular form, under the care and 
directions of Pisistratus. Indeed, as Phrynichus seems to 
have been a little infidel in his devotions to Bacchus, 
there is no doubt but he would glean up a new form, or a 
diverse subject from the older authors, from the services 
of the other deities, or from any available source whatever. 
It appears from Herodotus that the Chorus of Sicyon 
performed the Tragic sufferings of Adrastus before this 
time ; and there were, no doubt, other public ceremonies 
from which a catering genius, like that of Phrynichus, 
would easily gather a new idea, and extract some novel 
feature for his entertainments, which, though very dis- 
jointed, soon led to the construction of regular Dramatic 
plots. In the first instance, his Drama consisted mainly 
of his scientific dances and finely-polished Lyric Odes or 
Songs, with some little combination of the Chorus ; but 
the latter part of his daily improving career must have 
been very different to the earlier period of his theatrical 
performance. 

Contemporary with Phrynichus were his two rival, 
though minor, Tragedians, Choerilus and Pratinas. The 
former wrote about one hundred and fifty Tragedies of the 
Satyric class, all of which are entirely lost. Pratinas 
invented a new sort of Drama, partly resembling the 
mythologic and historic plays of Phrynichus, and yet 



THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 






intermixing the merry Chorus of the Satyrs, singing, 
grimacing, and dancing, at intervals, through the ex- 
hibition. This has been named the Satyric Drama. 
Pratinas is said to have written fifty Dramas, of which 
thirty-two were Satyric, 

But the grand author of the true and dignified Tragedy 
was iEscHYLUs. He is one of the most famous Tragic 
Poets, as well as a valiant Athenian soldier. He was 
born about 525 years before Christ. He fought in the 
terrible battles of Marathon, Salamis, Plataea, and other 
struggles of his high-spirited city, in which its proud 
enemy was most severely handled. His bravery in the 
field was equalled only by the immortal spirit of his 
Poetry. 

iEschylus has been considered the father of the 
Drama : he abolished the exclusive custom of recitations 
or single performers, by introducing more personages 
than one on the stage at the same time, and those 
dressed and performing distinct and peculiar characters. 
He very much improved the relative proportions in 
the several parts of his plays, by contracting the choral 
pieces, and expanding the dialogues and the personi- 
fications of characters ; by cultivating his dances ; the 
introduction of a permanent stage ; the exhibition of 
scenery ; the adoption of masks with strongly marked 
features ; and by sundry other alterations and additions, 
tending greatly altogether to the perfection of the Grecian 
Theatre. It was he who established the practice of pre- 
venting the actual deed of bloodshed and violence from 
being represented to the view of the spectators. 

But it is not so much in the scenic part of the Drama 
that we are to consider iEschylus ; he was a public-spirited 
and natural Poet of extraordinary parts, who struck out 
his own course, regardless of precedents or opinions. His 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 89 

great mind took its flights amongst the grand and the 
terrible, and astonished his audience with those stupendous 
themes which none before him had courage to touch. 
Heroes were to him as toys, and the Titans, the Furies, 
and the gods his playthings. He showed in all his actions 
a man of gigantic mind ; in war, the most determined 
and brave ; in the common affairs of life, active, austere, 
and impatient, yet kindly disposed when not irritated. 
His mind seems to have been animated with a strict and 
lofty moral feeling which disdained all meaner influences ; 
his genius was bold and expansive, even to daring. "With 
these natural parts, and an education suitable to the 
station of his noble family, it is no wonder that he should 
become the remodelling hero of that Drama which his 
very boyhood espoused. 

We are told that this Poet often related of himself, that, 
while a boy, being once left in care of the vineyard, he fell 
asleep, when Bacchus appeared to him in a dream, and 
urged him to apply himself to the cultivation of Tragedy ; 
and, having awoke, he made an attempt at Dramatic com- 
position, in which he found himself wonderfully proficient. 
This vision we may understand simply to indicate the 
fiery propensity of his genius, which was even then 
struggling to burst out into the blaze of its destined glory # 
But iEschylus did not come out as a public Tragic Poet 
until his 25th year: at that age he contended for the 
prize in the year 499 B.C. ; and it was not till 484 B.C. 
that he became successful in the Dramatic contests. The 
number of his plays, according to some authors, was 
seventy; but others say that he wrote ninety, or even a 
hundred, of which a few were Satyric. He was victor in 
the Tragic exhibitions thirteen, or, as some affirm, forty 
times ; and yet, out of all this literary mass, there are but 
seven of his Tragedies extant. 

i 2 



90 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

As a natural, and, we may say, unavoidable consequence 
of the yet infant state of the Drama, in connection also 
with the voluminous writings, the multitudinous engage- 
ments, and the independent unimitative character of this 
author, it is in no way surprising that in his Poems some 
slight imperfections have been discovered by the severe 
rules of modern criticism, which would almost presume 
to limit the nights of the mind by the measures of 
feet, inches, and barley-coms ! It is acknowledged, 
however, that iEschylus is sometimes disorderly in his 
arrangements, obscure and overswolien in his expressions, 
and defective in his plot ; nevertheless, it cannot be 
denied that he is a most dignified and sublime genius, 
who takes the highest standing-place, and maintains 
throughout his pieces a stupendous exaltation. His 
Agamemnon and Prometheus have been justly esteemed to 
be such master-pieces of Dramatic composition as seldom/ 
to be surpassed, or even equalled. 

In the latter days of JEschylus, the bones of Theseus, 
the first hero and demi-god of Athens, were discovered in 
the Island of Scyros, where they had lain nearly 800 
years ; they were then exhumed, and sent to Athens ; 
which circumstance diffused such excessive joy through 
the city, that the Athenians instituted public games to 
perpetuate the recollection of the event. The Tragic 
Poets were invited to compete ; the heroes of the day 
were iEschylus, the veteran Tragedian, and the young 
Sophocles, with his first prize exhibition ; the contest 
was severe and determinate, but, ultimately, the young 
man carried the victory from iEschylus, his aged pre- 
ceptor, who had hitherto been the acknowledged Dramatic 
champion of Greece. So deeply was the high mind of the 
old Poet mortified at the defeat, that, according to some 
authors, he voluntarily exiled himself into Sicily, where 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 91 

he ended his life shortly afterwards. The manner of his 
death is variously told. First, it is affirmed that he died 
of a mortified spirit, resulting from his unsuccessful 
exhibition ; and then it is recorded that when sitting in 
motionless meditation in the fields at Gela, an eagle, in 
flying over him, mistook his bald head for a white stone, 
and dropped thereon a tortoise for the purpose of break- 
ing its shell, but, instead thereof, broke the Poet's head, 
and terminated his earthly career, B.C. 456. He was then 
about 69 years of age. 

Whatever might be the immediate cause of this Poet's 
death, there is no question but his advanced life was em- 
bittered by political and theatrical trouble. The Athenians 
were divided into factions ; he espoused the partizanship 
of the Areopagus, or new court of supreme justice, which 
was established by Solon, and had become hateful to the 
multitude, because that, amongst other duties, the officers 
under this tribunal were to investigate the means whereby 
every man obtained his livelihood. Hence the hatred of 
the lazy and the dissolute was certain, and the Poet who 
dared publicly, like iEschylus, to defend the Areopagus 
was sure to feel himself uncomfortably situated with the 
populace. Add to this his theatrical defeat, with his own 
austere temper ; and we have sufficient cause why he 
should prefer the more congenial society which was then 
entertained in Sicily by Hiero, King of Syracuse, where 
the immortal Simonides, Pindar, Epicharmus, and others 
of like minds, were sojourning. 

Sophocles. — We have already seen the successful com- 
petition of young Sophocles against his aged master, 
iEschylus, and are thereby prepared to expect in him 
an accomplished promoter of the Drama. He was born of 
wealthy and illustrious parents, 495 B.C., at Colonus, a 
pleasant village about a mile from Athens, of which city 



92 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

he was by birth a freeman ; and if we are not to suspect 
that fame has been too much enamoured of this lovely 
Poet, and too partial with his history, we must look upon 
him as a prodigy of artistic felicity. He is described as 
a youth of almost every natural charm and educational 
accomplishment ; of personal beauty, both in countenance 
and symmetry ; of mind amiable, bland, and clear ; expert 
in the gymnastic exercises ; devoted to the natural religion, 
and to his country's prosperity, he seems to have been 
adorned with all those qualifications that a fond parent 
could wish, or his admiring fellow-citizens require. After 
that almost miraculous victory of the lone city of Athens 
over the mighty congregated hosts of all Persia at Salamis, 
Sophocles, then only 16 years of age, was selected, as the 
most accomplished in Music and the dance, and the most 
active and graceful in figure, to lead on the band of 
beautiful youths who, according to the custom of their 
country, performed their pgean of triumph. 

Such are a few of the good things related of Sophocles, 
and, what is exceedingly rare in the history of mankind, 
there are very few evil deeds recorded against him. He 
seems to have been possessed of a sweet, happy tempera- 
ment, whereby he was enabled to bear with the inequalities 
of society, and thereby conciliate the affections of men. 
Plutarch, in his life of Nicias, sets forth our Poet's 
modesty, greatly to his honour, and no doubt this feeling 
was the leading feature of his conduct through life. 
Another rare blessing amongst literary men was the lot of 
Sophocles — namely, the enjoyment of a cheerful mind and 
vigorous constitution to the extreme age of ninety years. 
Sophocles holds about the same position amongst Poets 
that Plato does amongst the Philosophers ; their exaltation 
of mind was nearly equal, the chastity of their language 
similar, and the Poet is entitled to the epithet "divine" 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 98 

in about the same signification wherewith it has been 
applied to the sage. As illustrative of the high moral 
position of Sophocles, we need only observe with what an 
air of faith Plutarch relates that he was honoured by the 
god iEsculapius sojourning with him during his life-time ; 
of which this historian declares there were abundant 
proofs extant when he wrote. And not only so, but he 
adds further that Bacchus, by two successive exertions of 
his power, procured the deceased Bard an interment in his 
family sepulchre, which, without such interference, could 
not have happened, as the burial-place was then in the 
possession of an hostile army. But these two assertions I 
take to have arisen from the symbolical mode of the Greek 
tongue. As the old man was so remarkably vigorous and 
healthy, it was the most natural thing possible for his 
countrymen to say that the god of medicine was his guest ; 
such an expression is but a fair example of their generally 
figurative language. And with regard to Bacchus appear- 
ing twice to Lysander, the Lacedaemonian general, for the 
purpose of procuring the interment of Sophocles, why does 
not the whole tenure of the story indicate that Lysander had 
possessed some singular respect for the departed son of the 
Muse, and that, through the inspirations of his own natural 
disposition, he permitted the Athenians to perform their 
funeral ceremonies, and return unmolested ? Certainly we 
may fairly interpret the matter thus ; for, be it observed 
that the general is said to have not agreed to the applica- 
tion of the god until he had learned from the soldiers that 
Sophocles was dead ; whence it plainly appears that he 
regarded the Poet more than the god ! We need only to 
remember that Bacchus was accounted the god of Tragedy, 
and the inspirer of Tragic Song ; and we may suppose that 
the appearing of this deity to Lysander means nothing 
more than a springing up in his mind of his own inert 



94 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

love of Poetic excellence. But, no matter how we regard 
those historic stories, it is quite evident that a great 
amount of veneration was entertained by most people 
towards this highly accomplished author. 

Yet Sophocles was not entirely destitute of human 
frailty, otherwise he could not have been mortal : he 
stands accused of excesses in his devotions to Venus and 
the jolly god ! His mode of death is variously recorded ; 
it is asserted that he died of joy at being pronounced 
victor at the Tragic contest, the excitement being too 
much for his great age to endure. Then we are told that 
he died of exhaustion, caused by reading aloud a passage 
from the Antigone, one of his plays. 

After so much of the moral and physical character of 
Sophocles, we may easily anticipate the quality of his 
composition. For the harsh impetuosity of iEschylus, he 
substituted a mellow harmony of speech ; in place of two, 
he introduced three actors on the stage, for the purpose of 
developing greater variety of character; his Choral Odes 
were remarkable for their sweetness ; he made them more 
brief, so as not to interrupt the plot too much, and con- 
nected more distinctly their sentiment with the fable of 
the play. Instead of the terrific introduction of the super- 
natural heroes of his master, he delights in exhibiting noble 
specimens of human nature, and draws with marvellous 
truth the frailties and peculiarities of men. Although less 
disposed than iEschylus to the unearthly horrible, yet 
Sophocles was considered superior in the true steady 
greatness of the legitimate Tragedy. He is a spirited, 
pure, and judicious author ; his subjects are well chosen, 
clearly digested, and tastefully arranged. His "King 
(Edipus" is reckoned a very masterly Dramatic piece. 

Had iEschylus lived much longer to contest with 
Sophocles, he might have said of him, as Demosthenes 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 95 

did of Phocian, " He is the prurdng-hook of my periods.'' 
But not only was Sophocles as a fine pruning-hook to cut 
off whatever was dry and unsightly in the Tragedy of his 
predecessors, hut he infused a natural virtue that was 
capahle of filling up all inequalities, and bringing out 
every member in its own fair and natural proportions. 
Sophocles was a successful cultivator of the Drama, an able 
military officer, and a valuable citizen, but spoiled to a 
great degree by a want of sufficient courage. 

Euripides.— The last of the famous triumviri of great 
Gracian Tragedians is Euripides, the son of Mnesarchus 
and Clito. He was born at Salamis, 480 B.C., on the same 
day that the Greeks obtained in that island their glorious 
victory over the almost innumerable Persians under 
Xerxes. 

From his early youth Euripides was trained in gymnastic 
exercises, and in his seventeenth year he obtained the 
crown in the Eleusinian and Thesean competitions ; but 
he soon retired from these games. For awhile he took to 
painting, in which art he seems to have had a good taste, 
as some of his pictures were long preserved in the city of 
Megara. During this early stage he also cultivated some 
acquaintance with the Tragic Muse, and, ultimately, 
betaking himself to philosophy and literature, his mind 
was by degrees trained to the bold exercise of the Grecian 
Drama. From this course of early training is derived that 
peculiarity in the writings of Euripides which has been 
termed his stage philosophy. On this subject, in addition 
to his scholastic training, this Poet was generally suspected 
of receiving actual assistance in the composition of his 
Plays from Socrates, his school-fellow, with whom he was 
ever on familiar terms ; and as a justification of this 
suspicion, Socrates was noted especially for departing from 
his usual custom in public amusements, by attending the 



96 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

Theatre when the pieces of his friend Euripides were to 
be performed. 

Our hero came out as a public Tragedian in his 25th 
year, 455 years B.C. In his first competition he was the 
third with his piece called " The Pleiades." In the year 
441 B.C., he succeeded in carrying the prize, and from 
that period became a regular exhibitor. His rivals were, 
chiefly, Sophocles ; Jophon, the son of Sophocles ; Ion ; 
and Euphorion, the son of iEschylus. 

In the year 408 B.C., Euripides exhibited his Orestes ; 
after which he shortly left the turbulent city of Athens ; 
first, for Magnesia, and afterwards for Macedonia, whither 
he had been invited to the court of King Archelaus : 
while here, he wrote a Play in honour of the King, whom 
he pleased so well as to be appointed one of his ministers 
of state. He came to an unfortunate death, being riven 
severely by some savage hounds, to which he became 
exposed, either by chance, or, as some suppose, through 
the malicious designs of his enemies ; he died soon after- 
wards, in a dreadful condition, at the age of seventy-four. 
The Athenians endeavoured to beg his body from Arche- 
laus, who denied their request. His remains were interred 
at Pella, with great solemnity and respect, and the only 
satisfaction remaining for Athens was to erect a cenotaph, 
with a suitable inscription, to the honour of her somewhat 
neglected citizen. 

The style of writing cultivated by Euripides is so far 
peculiar as to demand especial attention. He is allowed 
to be a Poet of undoubted genius ; and yet he was the 
butt for the jeers and ridicule of the Comedians of his 
day, particularly of Aristophanes. He stands accused of 
courting approbation at too great a price of complacency, 
and, by this means, of rendering some parts of his com- 
positions grovelling and unequal to the natural grasp of 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 97 

his intellect. He was derided for introducing mean and 
vulgar personages on the stage, and for needlessly lowering 
the character and sentiments of his heroes beneath their 
general fame, and that, too, without serving any purpose 
in the plot of his pieces. His aim, one might think, was 
rather that of reducing great men to the standard of the 
little than of elevating the humble to the rank of nobility, 
which is the glory of aspiring human nature. This is the 
reverse of what is usually found in Poets, and expected 
from them. Euripides is very free in introducing his 
deities in not a very godlike style, and makes a frequent 
parade of the philosophical notions of his school. He 
exhibits bodily graces or misfortunes rather than mental. 
He degrades the female character with unbecoming 
severity, either from his domestic infelicity, or else from 
his desire to secure the approbation of his audiences, 
which, amongst the Greeks of that age, consisted chiefly, 
if not wholly, of men. The general style of Euripides, 
when placed in comparison with iEschylus and Sophocles, 
may be characterized as formal, nice, profuse, and adorned 
with all available extraneous ornaments ; his Odes, sung 
by the chorus, are more disconnected from the main 
subject than theirs ; and his regular attempt at mere- 
tricious novelty and allurement is much more apparent 
than can be discovered in those other two great compeers 
of the art. 

And yet for these peculiarities, or faults, if we are to call 
them faults, there is much to be pleaded by way of atone- 
ment in Euripides. In the first place, the position which 
fell to his lot in the progressive stages of the Drama was 
calculated to lead him, more or less, into the course which 
he took. iEschylus had already pleased and astonished 
his auditors by his fearless intrepidity and bold, abrupt 
style. The field was open to him and unoccupied ; he was 

K 



98 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

at liberty to turn to the right hand or to the left, as should 
best suit his inclination. Sophocles followed, with these 
privileges, curtailed by so much as had been adopted by 
his predecessor, and found that, to keep up an equality of 
original merit with his great master, iEschylus, he must 
introduce some new points of excellence, and, happily for 
him, there was still room left for producing a finer degree 
of polish, and a few more legitimate innovations, which 
were even required for the perfection of the art. After 
these two great artists had exhausted their minds, there 
was but little scope remaining for their successors, and, 
under such secondary, or, rather, tertiary, circumstances, 
it would have been difficult for even a superior genius to 
maintain the same elevation with these two Poets. 

Accordingly, we find Euripides necessitated to cull 
inferior flowers from the same roots. The first and 
choicest blossoms had been already snatched away. The 
" Attic Bee " and her adventurous elder mate had secured 
or ransacked all the best honey-bearing blooms. Euripides 
must, therefore, be contented with a less splendid, a less 
odorous garland ; for the attractions and excellences left to 
his service were necessarily of a more artificial character. 

Secondly, the Greek audiences had in the time of 
Euripides become more powerfully critical, more fantas- 
tically nice in their taste, more imperious in their demands ! 
And yet it was for these audiences alone that the authors 
of this period wrote. It was this capricious public mind 
which was to sit as the judge of genius, and be the arbiter 
of its reward. Hence, no matter what merit an author 
possessed, if he was unfortunate enough to thwart the 
general ideas of the multitude, his doom was irrevocably 
fixed, and fierce persecution not unfrequently the result. 
This absolutely tyrannical public tribunal, through reason 
of inexperience, was undoubtedly taken with surprise by 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 99 

the first bold artist, iEschylus, who rushed impetuously 
aud unexpectedly on, in a new course wherein his auditors 
were unprepared to either accompany or criticise his 
doings ; he was, therefore, their entire master. But then, 
by so much novelty or improvement as one author adopted, 
by just so much more difficult was the task rendered for 
each succeeding writer who followed in the same way ; 
and from this time we see the Tragic Poets gradually sink 
in the downward scale of merit and success. Hence the 
position of Euripides was far from favourable. 

In addition to these three bright luminaries of the 
Tragic sphere, was a constellation of- lesser stars of various 
magnitude, all emitting their rays of Poetic light ; but the 
effect of the remainder was entirely eclipsed by the glory 
of these already described. Of the minor Tragedians of 
Greece we know very little ; some of their writings were 
voluminous, and yet out of the whole of their productions 
we possess scarcely a vestige ; and it is a remarkable fact, 
that all these inferior authors were subsequent to the 
period of iEschylus, whence the certainty of their copyism 
may be clearly inferred. 

The oi'igin of Comedy is very obscure. Aristotle, and 
others after him, usually derive it from the Phallic Songs 
of the Bacchanalian festivals ; but this sort of theatrical 
amusement has been so disregarded in its earlier stages 
by the literati, that we know but little of its progressive 
development. The slight snatches of history wherewith 
we are favoured often remind us of the merry-making 
rustics whose coarse jesting and buffoonery we have 
occasionally observed on the village greens, and at the 
street corners in the agricultural districts of England, 
even under all the restraining influences of the nineteenth 
century. A set of rural mirth-provokers always enlivened 
the festivals of ancient Greece by their unrestrained sarcasm 



100 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

and ribaldry. In course of time these promiscuous and 
heterogeneous merriments settled into a more regular form, 
under the directions of rude, and, as we may term them, 
natural Wits or Poets. Certain performers of the greatest 
adaptability were ultimately chosen, and, being furnished 
with dresses, masks, and all other necessary articles of 
business, they went regularly to work in an improved form 
of the art. Into the mouths of these actors was put a sort 
of regular discourse, to which the multitude, or a band 
selected for the purpose, responded to the chief interlocutor 
so as to unfold the regular plot of the play. This respond- 
ing party is termed the Chorus, and was long continued as 
a necessary part of a theatrical company ; indeed, for a 
considerable space the Chorus sustained nearly the whole 
burden of the play. 

The Grecian Comedy is usually divided into three 
successive stages of progressive development ; and each 
stage is indicative of a distinct species of the art. This 
division is the Old, the Middle, and the New Comedy. 
The old or original Comedy, partly described above, grew 
at last into a satire on individuals, or an attack upon 
personal character. In this form it became very licentious 
and vexatious, and the art fell into consequent disrepute. 
This species of Comedy was cultivated first by Epicharmus 
of Syracuse, about 500 B.C., being contemporary with the 
Tragedy of iEschylus. After him were a great multitude 
of other Comedians, of whom Aristophanes was the chief. 
Theopompus, 386 B.C., was the last author in this first 
division. 

In the Middle Comedy there are reckoned upwards of 
thirty writers, who, by reason of political changes, and of 
the check put upon the old Comedians, in their abuse of 
individual character, were compelled to restrain their per- 
sonal satire, and to seek out new matter for their Drama. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 101 

These writers took chiefly to mythology, to parody upon 
the Tragedians, to ridicule of the philosophers, and to 
the attack of persons in low conditions, or of lewdly 
vicious propensities. This was a sort of transition Comedy. 

The new Comedy, by going one step beyond the above, 
got rid of the individual, and attacked his vice or folly 
in the abstract only, ridiculing the frailties of men, while 
it avoided the vexations of personal reference. Thus, 
at last, the Comedians arrived at the means of lampooning 
the manners of society, without giving particular annoy- 
ance or exciting private resentment, and Comedy became 
a faithful but humorous portrait of life. 

The Exhibitions of the Tragic and Comic Plays were 
not in Greece as with us — private speculations ; but, witli 
the exception of the offensive stages of the Comedy, were 
conducted at the public expense ; and, being esteemed 
equally with the chief acts of the nation, were performed 
under the immediate management of the magistrates. 
These exhibitions were held at regular periods, and 
formed the main features of the public festivals. On these 
occasions nearly the whole of the Greeks, together with 
many strangers, were assembled, and, consequently, the 
theatres had to be built of an immense size to receive 
them. The Theatre of Bacchus at Athens could accom- 
modate with seats 30,000 auditors, some of whom must 
have been at least 100 yards from the performers. This 
immense place was open at the top, exposed to the 
beautiful sky of that country, from which the assembly 
very seldom received any annoyance of foul weather, ; 
but when an occasional storm did descend, a temporary 
interruption of the play was the inevitable consequence. 
The seats were arranged in semicircular form, not unlike 
the sweeping galleries of our large modern chapels, and 
were allotted into different divisions for the several classes 

k 2 



102 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

of the spectators. A great variety of machinery, and every 
other available assistance, were used to represent the several 
characters of the Drama in their proper style and circum- 
stances. Instruments were fixed for swinging the gods 
and heroes through the air, when it was requisite for them 
to descend, or to pass across the vision ; pits and doors 
were constructed to admit persons to ascend from the 
nether regions, or to depart thither, and, in short, every 
contrivance was used that ingenuity could suggest, or 
necessity require, in the full development of any dramatical 
piece. The stage curtain was drawn upwards, through 
an opening in the floor, from a roller at the bottom, in 
opposition to the " dropping " of ours. 

The whole of these, and a multitude of other portions 
of the Theatre, were inclosed by a beautiful architectural 
structure of stone, which afforded convenient passages for 
ingress and egress, and provided some shelter from the 
changes of weather, together with proper apartments for 
the machinery and the dresses, and the retirement of the 
performers. 

The Poets who were desirous of having their pieces 
performed in the grand festivals had to send in their 
compositions beforehand to the chief magistrate, who 
examined each, and decided which were to be deemed 
worthy of the public contest. To each of the authors who 
gained this approval were allotted, by ballot, three actors 
and a chorus for the representation of his play ; the ex- 
pense of these assistants was paid by the wealthier portion 
of the public, the same as any other national concern. 
The adjudicators of the victory in these Dramatic contests 
were five in number, and received their appointment also 
from the chief magistrate. The expense of one chorus 
was from £80 to £100, and was borne alternately by the 
chief citizens ; the person on whom the care and cost of 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 103 

this chorus devolved was called the Choragus ; and, his 
being esteemed a position of honour, he was subjected to 
several restrictions by way of qualification. After the full 
development of these Dramatical festivals, the reward of 
the successful Poets consisted simply of applause, fame, 
and an ivy wreath ! No unsuccessful piece was allowed 
to be exhibited a second time until it had been re-written, 
with the exception of the works of those three great 
Tragedians already noticed, — iEschylus, Sophocles, and 
Euripides. But, after the death of these powerful authors, 
their works were too mighty to be admitted in rivalry 
with the minor Poets, and consequently their writings 
were excluded from the public contests, and were read by 
themselves annually, as a separate entertainment. 

By reason of the Theatre being maintained at the public 
charge, the people were, at first, allowed free admission ; 
but as this soon produced confusion and uproar, a small 
payment was afterwards imposed. A Grecian audience 
was a very masterful assembly. A Poet, or Actor, who 
was unfortunate enough to offend against the notions of 
his hearers, was generally treated with extreme abuse, not 
only by insulting words, but also by having thrown at him 
sticks, stones, or any other missile weapons that happened 
to be convenient. On the other hand, when the spectators 
were gratified, they expressed their approbation in the 
most energetic enthusiasm of applause. The Theatrical 
exhibitions began early in the morning, and, with two or 
three short intervals, continued the whole day. On these 
occasions ten or a dozen plays were usually performed. 

"With these short notices of the leading features of the 
Athenian Theatre, the reader will form a tolerably correct 
view of the Dramatic position of ancient Greece. There 
is scarcely sufficient classic interest excited in the Roman 
Drama to call for more than the passing notices previously 
made. The Romans were chiefly but imitators, or, very 



104 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

often, only borrowers from the Greeks ; and, in like 
manner, all other succeeding nations are greatly indebted 
to the Grecian model, which we have here briefly 
attempted to describe. Even to this day, the principal 
characteristics of our own Drama clearly trace their 
origin to Greece ; and, therefore, whoever admires any 
of our modern writers of Poetry, of any class, cannot but 
feel some interest in these ancient forerunners of the art. 
There is no question but that, throughout the whole 
course of Theatrical history, there is much both of the 
foolish and the sensual intermingled with the intellectual ; 
and this is greatly to be deplored. But, although we 
deplore these errors, yet it is right that we should fix the 
fault on the right party ; it is not our Tragedians or 
Comedians who are to blame ; they are merely the tools 
of the public taste, and if they thwart the public notions, 
they will suffer scarcely less in England than they would 
have done in ancient Greece. The mistake consists in 
the moral condition of the nation. The readers and the 
hearers of our Drama forget that this ought to be an 
intellectual amusement, and that the mind alone should 
be interested and instructed in its compositions and 
performances. But, instead of this, the public seek chiefly 
for animal excitements — for sensual representations. Our 
Drama is laid under the compulsion of necessity to cater 
for these meaner appetites, and the consequence is, that 
those who would otherwise be its intellectual patrons are 
driven forcibly to swell the number of its opponents. 
Could our national taste but once become so philosophized, 
and so abstracted from vicious propensities, as to look upon 
this as an employment for the mind alone, then the Drama 
would grow up into an intellectual science, and afford a 
school of the richest moral experience. Till then, its 
position is far from enviable. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 105 



CHAPTER VIII. 



REFLECTIONS CONNECTED WITH ANCIENT POETRY— FICTION 
—IMAGINATION— MODERN DIFFICULTIES— INSPIRATION 
—CONCLUSION. 



We cannot peruse even a contracted history of Ancient 
Poetry without being led into several reflections. In a 
general review of the Poetical incidents and customs, as 
we meet with them mixed up in the daily affairs of the 
Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, we find altogether a great 
patronage of the Muses ; and yet, in each of these 
nations, Poetry assumes a new form, and performs 
different services. With the Hebrews she is a sacred 
creature, devoted to religious and moral purposes ; some- 
times, indeed, embracing domestic and personal pleasure. 
With the G-reeks she becomes a highly imaginative genius, 
and, by her supernatural machinery, she strikes con- 
tinually at the rapturous enthusiasm of unbridled spirits. 
Amongst the Romans, with a few individual exceptions, 
this same art is completely desecrated ; she entirely loses 
her celestial Hebrew breath, and flags considerably below 
the high flights of Grecian genius. The Jewish Muse is 
a saint ; the polished Greek, an intellectual spirit ; the 
Romish, chiefly a dame of pleasure. The appointed Poetic 
festivals in Judea are mostly remarkable for the solemn 
devotion of the religious feelings ; in Greece, for the wild 



106 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

excitement of the imagination, and consequent excessive 
bodily exercises ; and in Rome, for the satiety of the animal 
propensities, descending even to the wholesale butchery of 
men and beasts. With the Jew, and the advanced Greek, 
Poetry maintained her ascendancy ; from the Roman, her 
essence became almost wholly banished. Hence it is not 
so easy as might at first be imagined to discover any one 
distinguishing characteristic whereby the essence of Poetry 
may be known and clearly defined. 

Some people determinately assert that the essential of 
Poetry is fiction. They use this word, too, as condemna- 
tory, in that meaning which is opposed to truth, intending 
thereby to verify the oft-repeated verdict, that Poetry is 
opposed to the duties of life, and the general transactions 
of business. If I could for a moment believe Poetry to 
be, essentially, one-half so false as the common maxims, 
principles, and practices of men, I would for ever cast 
her from me as a dangerously polluted thing ! But not so 
— her accusers know her not ! The epithet fictitious more 
truly belongs to their own disordered notions ! 

It is scarcely possible to find a word which contains 
within itself a proper description or definition of any art 
or science. A much better word, because more true, is 
used by some critics of sounder judgment. They tell us 
that Poetry is an imaginary art ; that it is the work of the 
imagination ; that it is an image painted in the mind, as 
the representative of any matter or circumstance of our 
inquiry. Now, fiction, in its gross modern sense, is simply 
falsehood ; but the image of the mind — the work of the 
imagination — like any other image, may be false or true, 
according to the art and talent employed in its execution. 
An ideal image bears the same relation to the subject 
represented as the chiselled marble image bears towards 
the original from whence it is copied. Hence the picture 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 107 

in the imagination may be as perfectly true as the purest 
idea of heaven. These two images differ in reference to 
their objects only as they differ in the instruments of their 
production. The statue must always be a material copy 
of a material being, because it is formed by a material 
architect ; whereas the image of the mind is an immaterial 
picture of either real objects or of abstract qualities — a 
spiritual conception of whatever exists, or is supposed to 
exist, either in matter or in mind. Therefore, the work of 
the imagination is true or false, according to the condition 
of the intellect wherein the image is created. It is highly 
probable that the Greeks had some such idea as this, of 
the picture-forming quality of the imagination ; for we 
have our words Poem, Poetry, and the like, from their 
verb Poieo, which signifies, primarily, to do, make, or 
imagine. 

And what could possibly be more truly satisfactory to 
an intellectual being than these ideal realities ? The Poet 
requires nothing of necessity to be fictitious — nothing false 
beyond the mere figures of common language ; and he 
who abides in the closest connection with truth is the best 
author ; witness the truthful heaven-aspiring songs of the 
Hebrews. These are undoubtedly the finest specimens of 
all the Poetry wherewith we are acquainted ; and it is a 
question not unworthy our inquiry, whether truth be not 
absolutely the chief essence in this divine art. After the 
many facts which have been collected, and the many more 
which could be added thereto, it is not much to assume 
that Poetry is an article natural and essential to the human 
miud ; and, if so, that it is intended to be a true thing ; 
because whatever is in strict accordance with the general 
rules of the created universe we must admit to be true, 
otherwise we offer a gratuitous insult and a libel on the 
All-wise Creator. The abuses which we thrust into Poetry 



108 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

no more disprove her celestial birth-right than those 
wars and vices which are carried on under the cloak of 
piety can refute the truth of religion. 

There is, without doubt, much difficulty in representing 
the stern native boldness of truth in a sufficiently attrac- 
tive Poetic dress to secure the attention of men whose 
minds are more decidedly adapted to error. But this 
difficulty consists not in the essence of the subject, which 
is in itself sufficiently sublime and majestic. The real 
difficulty lies in our own inability — in our own obtuse 
conceptions, either to write the sublimity of truth, or to 
receive it when it is written. "We are circumscribed by a 
moral incapacity, and our intellect is error-ridden to a 
fearful degree. "We are too much of the earth to relish 
pure celestial fruits. A multitude that fills its carousals 
with the phallic indecencies of the primitive Greeks, 
without even the remotest perception of the rich natural 
truths conveyed in their mysteries and sacred forms, could 
hardly be at home amongst the Hebrew Melodies. 

But it is to be feared that something worse than gross 
ignorance has to do with this question. It is doubtful 
whether some criminal self-deception does not interpose 
to screen us from the sting of our own consciences ; and 
whether some hypocritical imposition upon the opinions of 
others be not also in active operation ; and whether we do 
not, therefore, form fictitious theories to gloss over the 
vicious quality of our Literary and Poetic ideas. There 
appears much reason to believe that many of the perverted 
notions which have been put forth, respecting the nature 
and the offices of Poetry, were but, in reality, at first, so 
many loopholes or subterfuges prepared for the better 
effecting an escape, when pinned up too closely to those 
truths for which we have ceased to feel any relish ; and 
that these pretensions being found a convenient form of 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 109 

cowardly vice, have settled down into an almost natural 
habit, from which now it is not always easy to escape. 

If this be correct, as many reasons appear to indicate, 
we discover a clear case of injury — of defamation — by one 
party thrown on another, for the unhandsome purpose of 
representing himself above his proper standard of merit, 
and, at the same time, of depressing his injured friend. 
And yet, if men cannot bear the truth, even in the beauty 
of its Poetic dress, why should they increase the vicious 
quality of their capacity by persuading themselves into a 
further error, and mocking the principles of Poetry with 
the title of fiction ? And why should Poets themselves 
so tamely submit to the imputation ? Why, forsooth ! 
Simply because we are all together sunk deep into the 
same abyss. It has become almost proverbial that we 
have a dearth of sacred Poetry — of truth- writers ! And 
what a reflection is this, if you take it by the proper 
handle ! Well may the disbeliever in Poesy cry out, 
" fiction !" But the Poetry of truth will never be a 
favourite with any reader until Truth herself becomes the 
daily object of his practical pursuit ; and Poets will never 
properly compose sacred verse until theyfirst experimentally 
believe their theme. Neither Poetry nor Truth are half- 
hearted ; they must have the entire assent of the mind, 
and the utmost affection of the soul. 

But still it is surely not too much to hope that men may 
be induced to abandon, in some degree, their false posi- 
tion, and to discontinue their abusive, hypocritical conduct 
towards the subject that does not happen to accord with 
their preconceived notions — their remnants of barbarism. 

It is by no means difficult to discover, whatever may be 
thought to the contrary, that the first Poets were the 
seekers and the imitators of the truth — were the Poets of 
what they understood to be the truth. The original Songs 

L 



110 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

of all people are simply an expression of their natural 
feelings, given in the finest manner that they are able to 
understand and practise. It is only men who are called 
civilized that have learned to revel in the invention of 
abstract ideas — of mental nonentities — of systematic fic- 
titious creations ! The plain man of nature knows bxit 
little beyond what he sees and feels, and, therefore, cannot 
enter far into the world of fiction ; he cannot invent things 
unlike what he has experienced. This holds good with our 
aucient Poetic models. All the themes cultivated by the 
Hebrew Poets are the subjects of Jewish religion, or the 
facts of life — chiefly the Providence of God and the praises 
and adoration connected therewith. There is no fiction or 
opposition to truth whatever in these, excepting we catch 
their highly figurative language by that name. And yet 
the flights of the imagination are bold and sublime enough 
in gathering collateral materials for filling up their pictures 
along with their leading subject. Precisely so with the 
ancient Greeks. The only gods which they knew anything 
of were the chief heroes of their Poetry — the subjects of 
their praise and exaltation. From the rustic love song, 
which is one of the first subjects of simple adoration, the 
Grecians go on to celebrate the whole course of nature — 
her plenteous fruitfulness, her mysterious workings, and 
her congenial beneficence. To the virtues of things these 
Poets attach names, whereby they may be distinguished, 
and the energies of the elements they designate as gods ; 
and this simply because they saw in those elements a godly 
power or virtue which they could not trace to a higher 
source. These worked together, with all their circumstances, 
form an extensive system of natural religion, and when 
cleared of what, to us, is a mysterious expression, are almost 
deserving the name of truth : it is all the truth which their 
knowledge, experience, or speculations could discover. 



OF THE ANCIENTS. Ill 

This religious system, in one form or another, with their 
natural emotions — their historical data — their traditional 
reminiscences, and their many other interesting subjects of 
faith or fact, constituted the whole Poesy of the primitive 
Greeks ; and to these sources may be traced their festivals 
and their Drama. Furthermore, it is too much presump- 
tion on our part to suppose the old heroic Poems of Homer 
and his compeers to be wholly fictitious. The whole com- 
plexion of the early Poetry of the Grecians bears the blush 
of then mode of truth ; and it is but fair to presume that 
the heroics are founded on some facts, however exaggerated 
they may be, in their traditional transit from period to 
period, from their transaction up to their final development 
in all the gay attire of versification. 

We are strange literary infidels — wonderful doubt-manu- 
facturers, if we affect to receive as entirely fabulous all 
that has descended to us from above the era of letters, or 
all whereof we have not absolute proof now remaining. 
It would be ridiculous in us to expect, after so great a 
lapse of time, sufficient collateral evidence for establishing 
the verity of all, or even many, of the circumstances related 
in ancient Poetry ; it is far more generous and scholar-like 
to give credence to the narration, allowing, however, for 
the errors of ignorance, and of heroic enthusiasm, which 
have, no doubt, become interwoven with the texture of 
the ancient writings. 

And yet, in the advanced ages of Greece, men became 
sufficiently civilized to invent fiction, and sufficiently 
polished to tell falsehoods, which, as Solon prophesied, 
ultimately interfered with serious affairs ; but we still 
hold, that such fictions were so far from necessary, as 
to be a real fault ; and so thought Solon, who, though 
himself a Poet, could not endure to hear lies grafted into 
Poetry. However, in spite of the natural root of Poetry, 



112 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

and the censures of the better sort of men upon those who 
abused the cultivation of this art, error continued its hold 
on the public mind, and, by courting favour and pampering 
men's passions, made itself, ultimately, a necessaiy article 
in the service of the Muses. Greece at last reaped her full 
share of noxious flowers, and Rome afterwards imported 
the seeds which ripened thereon. 

Then, lastly, as regards fiction, although some use this 
term as a stigma on Poetry, and although I deny it, in its 
broad sense, to be a necessary material for the exercise of 
the Poet's talent, yet I have no reluctance in believing 
that it may, in the sense of fable, type, or parable, be 
rendered both useful and ornamental in the most truthful 
compositions. "Whoever thinks of condemning the fiction 
of iEsop, or Gay's " Fables," or the parables of the Evan- 
gelists ? And were it not for some abuse, on the one 
hand, together with a peculiarly narrow bigotry on the 
other, the objection would never have attained much force 
against Poetry. A little suppositious amplification of a 
plot may sometimes be very useful, by giving a more 
extensive scope to the imagination, and thus, in some 
measure, satisfying our human thirst for novelty. But 
this description of matter ought always to be kept in rigid 
subordination to the truth, and never allowed to border on 
that meretricious vanity which, first becoming obscure and 
unmeaning, ends in dissatisfaction. 

From the contradictious profusion which ultimately 
grew up amongst the ancients we derive our Poetic 
patterns, and our most incongruous English taste and 
customs. Some of us admit into our Poetic creed nothing 
but the sternly religious strains of the Jewish Muse ; 
some few ape the choirs of Parnassus ; and a multitude, 
unhappily, cherish the inferior examples of Greece, with 
some tincture even of the vicious propensities of the 



OP THE ANCIENTS. 113 

Italian Amphitheatre. Our avaricious adoption of these 
opposite features into the different regions of our national 
taste arises, no doubt, from the confused mixture of the 
English character, which well prepares us for receiving so 
many and heterogeneous models. 

Our origin is from nearly all nations ; we have inter- 
course with all, and each of us thinks and acts in accord- 
ance with his own individual will. Hence many different 
states of moral and intellectual culture are inevitable, and 
this will as certainly lead to our imitation of those patterns 
which are most allied to each of our several notions. It 
were greatly to be wished, even intellectually speaking, 
that the public mind could be all brought to one fair 
standard ; this would redeem Poetry from the desecration 
into which she has been partly enticed, and partly forced, 
by those who are the first to heap their contumely on her 
fallen graces. 

With such dissimilar examples for his imitation, and so 
many conflicting and indefinite sentiments in his patrons 
and critics, it has become really a severe task for the 
English Poet to hit upon a successful course for his essays. 
Prom this cause he is debarred of reasonable encourage- 
ment ; he must fight his labours on to the public attention, 
in the face of every impediment ; and even should he be 
fortunate enough to force a fair impression, he is, after all, 
looked upon as nothing more than a pleasant trifler, the 
property of the public, to be either quoted or derided, 
according to the humour, intellect, or morals of the com- 
pany into which he may happen to fall. 

And what is the inevitable consequence of this con- 
dition ? Why, nothing more certain than that it will 
deter, perhaps, the very best geniuses from their natural 
course, and thereby rob the world of, probably, some of 
the best gems with which it would otherwise have been 

i 2 



114 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

adorned. To be convinced of this circumstance, we hare 
need only to remember the distracting effect of public 
opinion upon the great Greek Tragedians ; and the world's 
history supplies many more examples wherein the mighty 
have been diverted from their purpose. 

Another great mischief no doubt arises from this bad 
taste. Nearly all men of decent mental powers have 
considerable Poetic feeling in their youth ; but on arriving 
at manhood, and observing the deterring attitude of the 
public towards this subject, they become somewhat alarmed 
at the threatened hostility ; and very many are really 
laughed out of all their finer feelings, and induced to 
become, as other men, mockers of their noble birth-right 
— the glorious harmony and virtue of creation ! Some at 
this period go back to swell the multitude of discordant 
spirits, whose occupation is to libel the pure and innocent 
joys of nature, and to seek out new and contorted inven- 
tions of their own. Some, who still feel the darling Muse 
too kind, too loving, to be forsaken, and are yet somewhat 
fearful of the conflict of public mind, rush impetuously, 
and almost despairingly, into a devoted enthusiasm, as 
their best resource and only defence ; they become callous 
to all opinion, and force their passage into such extremes 
as otherwise they would have never known. To stand on 
his own natural ground, like other men, is almost an 
impossibility for any modern English Poet. He has but 
little sympathy from others ; no companionship or friendly 
advice ; those around him are fighting the wars of, too 
often, wicked politics, religious schism, or mercantile 
knavery. For the most part, his theme is too elevated for 
his observers, and he stands per force an isolated being ! 

Where, then, is the wonder that, in perusing the 
biography of the Poets, we should meet with a great 
amount of heedless eccentricity ; some revenging satire ; 



OP THE ANCIENTS. 115 

some mocking comedy, and some Archilochian venom ? 
What less could be expected in the last resort of the poor, 
provoked mental outcast. This is really the root of the 
Poet's usual unfitness for common business, and the public 
deserves the greater blame on account thereof. It were 
greatly to be desired that we should have a reformation in 
our Poetic customs. But without some general reorganiza- 
tion of public ideality, morals, and education, this whole- 
some change can scarcely be anticipated. Our Mechanics' 
Institutes and other learned establishments are not a 
little at fault ; yet we hope the arising of a more natural 
and glorious light, and think we already discern a few 
rays, as the first-fruit of the happy day now dawning in 
the horizon of intellect. 

That Poetry is necessarily and essentially at antagonism 
with the common engagements of life, either political, 
commercial, or social, is a great mistake, and directly 
contradicted by the facts of the preceding pages. The 
Jews have ever been proverbial for their hard, persevering, 
money-making propensities, and general solid unflinching 
habits ; the Greeks were all warriors, artizans, and men of 
business ; and those of the Romans who have been most 
remarkable for Poetic feelings have, in nearly all ages, been 
the chief men of public usefulness. There is, indeed, some 
danger that the pride of intellect may creep in, and set a 
man to contemn all inferior pursuits ; but this can be only 
in a one-sided mind, which has lost its natural sense of 
rectitude. And this species of pride is equally dangerous 
to all other valuable possessions ; but we should not, on that 
account, refuse the enjoyment of those blessings which are 
liable to such attack ; it is much better to rescue them, 
if possible, from the abuse, and cultivate their natural 
truthful character, whereby their value will be increased. 

Before leaving this ground, one serious because mis- 



116 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

chievous error requires our consideration — namely, that of 
Poetic inspiration. We have seen in the life of iEschylus 
that he ascribed his dramatic talent to the immediate 
inspiration of Bacchus. Lysander, the Spartan general, is 
said also to have been inspired by the same god with a 
kindly disposition, for the purpose of allowing the funeral 
of Sophocles to pass unmolested through his army. The 
whole army of Bacchus was said to be inspired when he 
travelled into the East ; and old Socrates is memorable 
for professing to have the attendance of a demon, who 
encouraged him in good ideas and sentiments. Also, on 
Mount Parnassus, the supposed residence of the Muses, 
and of Apollo, their deity, there was said, at one time, 
to be a fissure in the earth, which emitted sulphureous 
vapours, whereby a herd of goats and their attendant, 
together with some other persons, were inspired in a 
wonderful manner. This, of course, was said to be the 
spirit of the god, and it was resolved to build there a city 
for his honour, and to dedicate to him a temple and an 
oracle. This city was called Delphi ; the oracle became 
famous all over the world, and the temple was the 
repository of great wealth offered by its visitants. The 
priestess, called Pythia, professed to give the answers of 
the god to the questions of men, on all matters, whether 
public or private ; she pretended to receive from the deity 
a sudden rush of inspiration into her through means of 
the gas, from the cavity of the earth within the temple ; 
and to perfect the system, she delivered those answers in 
verse, as the real responses of Apollo, the god and patron 
of Poetry, Music, and all the fine arts. 

Besides these instances of supposed inspiration, the 
reader will scarcely require informing that, to gather a 
multitude, more cases would be easy work ; but these are 
remarkable examples, and sufficient for our purpose ; we 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 117 

need not seek further for the present. That the ancients 
speak of an inspiration admits of no dispute. That the 
middle, or what are termed the dark ages, should adopt 
this or any other doctrine, is not very marvellous ; but 
that modem Europe, and especially England — and that, 
too, in the nineteenth century, under all the influences of 
increased civilization and experience — should swallow the 
nasty gas of the Delphian cavern, with natural avidity 
and satisfaction, is a thing almost incredible ! And this 
appropriation of a notion which is altogether foreign to 
our genius, both makes us look stupid, and gives the 
Poet's enemy a good foundation for his ridicule. 

Old Cornelius Agrippa, in his "Vanity of Arts and 
Sciences," gives a tremendous slash at the pretended 
inspiration of the Poets ; but there are also many 
enlightened people who, even to this day, bebieve that 
real inspiration — a supernatural endowment — is necessary 
for the production of Poetry. Even many of our good 
Poets, either from ignorance, thoughtlessness, vanity, or 
some other useless characteristic, have assisted in propa- 
gating the notion of Poetic inspiration by their formal 
invocations of the Muses, and other unnecessary acts and 
foreign modes. 

In consequence of these circumstances, many persons 
are really in doubt whether there be not some sort of 
Poetic inspiration ; indeed, I make but little question that 
some think that there is, in fact, a supernatural visitation 
received by the real Poet ; and hence, it is, in some 
measure, that they take him to be a man scarcely 
belonging to this sphere — as a being of a different nature 
— as one unfitted for the pursuits of life. 

But let us examine what is inspiration ? The simple 
meaning of this word is, first, a drawing in of the breath ; 
secondly, a breathing into anything ; and, thirdly, amongst 



118 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 

the divines " Inspiration is when an overpowering impres- 
sion of any proposition is made upon the mind by Grod 
himself, that gives a convincing and indubitable evidence 
of the truth and divinity of it : so were the prophets and 
the apostles inspired." (Watts.) Now, the first and second 
definitions are inapplicable ; it must, therefore, be in the 
last sense only that modern Poets are said to be in- 
spired ; and yet it appears strange that any rational man, 
especially a Christian, should ever conceive such a notion. 
Supposing that we had a godly inspiration the productions 
thereof must of certainty be godly — be of one uniform and 
specific character ; and even though the language, or 
style of verbal expression, should be left to the writer, 
yet the ideas, the sentiments, and the purposes set forth 
ought to be in strict keeping with the character of that 
superior Being from whom the inspiration is supposed to 
proceed. But if this were the case, and all other descrip- 
tions of Poetry were annihilated, how small indeed would 
be our remaining stock. It is proper to remember that an 
inspiration of religious sentiments is a very distinct thing 
from an inspiration of the art of writing Heroics, Tragedies, 
Comedies, Satires, Lyrics, or any other such like articles. 
Or, if we revert to Delphi, and consult the Pythoness, 
she is no proof of Poetic inspiration, but rather the reverse, 
for she ceased to deliver Poetry; she made up doggrel, 
and fathered it upon Apollo, till at last it could be endured 
no longer ! The people declared that this god of Poetry 
made the worst verses of any author in the world ! ! A 
pretty inspiration this, and Pythia, when she could no 
longer cheat by her Poetic delusions, descended to make 
what she could out of plain prose ! Scarcely any one will 
believe otherwise than that this was one of those decep- 
tions which we find, in all ages, practised upon the 
credulous public for the sake of its profits. But although 



OF THE ANCIENTS. 119 

such things may prosper for awhile, they end in dis- 
appointment. 

With regard to iEschylus, I have already explained 
that his supposed inspiration was no doubt the force of 
his strong and fervid imagination, fixed on a particular 
purpose ; and the like of Lysander. As the demon or 
genius which was said to attend and direct Socrates, I am 
fully persuaded that this was merely his own good under- 
standing, which supported and encouraged him in the 
performance of any wise design that he had proposed ; 
in fact, this doctrine forms one item in the Platonic 
philosophy, and is another proof, if more were wanting, of 
the mysterious mode of speaking and teaching adopted by 
the ancients. We find it was a studied principle with 
many of the philosophers to deliver their sentiments in an 
enigmatical manner, so as to be understood only by the 
initiated. As a mighty instance of this, we find Alexander 
the Great wrote to Aristotle to complain about the philoso- 
pher having published the sciences which he had formerly 
taught to the King, who now became displeased that 
others would learn as much as himself ; whereas he wished 
to stand supreme ; but the Stagyrite satisfied his royal 
disciple by assuring him that though the books were 
indeed, published ; yet the subject of them remained a 
secret to all but to those who were initiated into the mode 
of expression wherein the books were written. King 
Solomon appears to have been well acquainted with this 
enigmatical form of instruction ; he gives us a noble 
example in his sacred song, which is scarcely suited to 
the crude ideas of these refined days. Furthermore, he 
gives us a specific intimation of this mysterious way of 
teaching. He says : — "A wise man will hear, and will 
increase learning ; and a man of understanding shall 
attain unto wise counsels ; to understand a proverb, and 



120 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS . 

the interpretation ; the words of the wise, and their dark 

SAYINGS." 

We ought, therefore, to rest satisfied with understanding 
that, under the outward appearance of words, the ancients 
possessed meanings, and even doctrines, which are not 
always comprehensible to us, and so not safe for us to 
adopt into very familiar practice. Prom the habitual use 
of a single expression, borrowed out of the enigmatical, 
and often misunderstood writers, we may entirely pervert 
its original meaning, and build thereon such sentiments as 
the primitive literati never cenceived. Nay, indeed, let us 
so far mistrust the common course of our perceptions as to 
examine carefully all such matters before we dare to pre- 
sume, even in supposition, that our great forerunners in 
literature set themselves much in opposition to natural 
truth ; and, especially let us take care that we do not, 
unwittingly, receive into our creed even greater errors 
than we sometimes profess to find in the ancients. I 
cannot persuade myself to enter seriously any further into 
the subject of Poetic inspiration ; for it must require a 
very little steady attention in any person to discover its 
fallacy. 

Having advanced thus far, I must leave this theme ; 
and should my readers find sufficient entertainment 
herein, probably on a future occasion I may offer them 
other considerations relating to the practices and principles 
of the Poetic Art. Amongst other very important ques- 
tions yet remaining are the moral and political conditions 
of the people, which may be observed in parallelism with 
the several stages of Ancient Poetry. And besides this 
question, I should wish to trace the course of Poetic 
usages and sentiments, through succeeding ages, down to 
our own time ; — a subject which, if fully developed, is 
pregnant with important lessons. 



HER MAJESTY 



QUEEN VICTORIA'S VISIT, 



TO CASTLE HOWARD, 

THE RESIDENCE OF THE 

EIGHT HOE THE EABL OF CABLISLE, 

august 27th, 1350. 



PREFACE. 

_Lhe many points of uovelty which the recent Royal 
Journey presents over any other in the world's history, 
will, I think, justify my loyal enthusiasm. All the features 
of railway travelling are entirely new ; the felicitous ease, 
the almost annihilation of immense space, and the conse- 
quent multiplying of time, are modern realities of the most 
interesting experience. Add to these the universal display 
of loyal affection everywhere manifested along the royal 
route, without any mingling of restraint, coldness, force, 
fear, or other alloy, and sustained, simply, by a real soul- 
felt national love towards an admired and agreeable 
Monarch, and then you have a picture worthy the pencil 
of the most inspired artist. 

I have, however, read, or heard it expressed by some 
stern moralist, that we need not praise any person for the 
performance of good deeds, because that to do good is the 
duty of all men, and that the fulfilment of duty gives no 
title to an eulogy ! But I am of a very different opinion, 
and therefore am not one of those who praise in flattery ! 
In a state of being where we have so many delinquencies, 
and innumerable temptations to depravity, I take it that a 
prudent encouragement is the shortest way to make an 
upright man ! The consciousness of being approved is a 
strong foundation for our morals that cheers us on in the 
resistance of evil ; whereas, a man who feels himself 
generally avoided and detested in society, usually turns 
out a consummate villain, and takes the certain road to 
moral destruction. We seem all inclined, in some degree, 
to grow into what men tell us we are. 

Hence it is as a matter of principle that I am inclined to 
offer my commendations to the virtuous great. From a 
personage nothing can emanate of a trifling effect ; 



124 PREFACE. 

his position magnifies upon others the force of all his 
deeds. If, then, we are blessed with a Monarch, or other 
great person, desirous of walking at the head of the 
nation in the paths of virtue and moral rectitude, which 
have but too often been strangers to the "powers that be,'' 
ought we not immediately to show our apprecience of 
such conduct, and so be instrumental in assisting that 
determination of goodness to the highest attainable point 
of perfection ? Ought we not to hold up such excellence 
as a lamp to the feet of all other present and future great 
persons ? And is it not veiy proper, too, that we should 
bring out these rare instances as examples to the humbler 
classes, who have often been inclined to think that moral 
propriety is expected from them, almost to the exemption 
of their superiors ? Practically, it has frequently seemed as 
though the rich lived by their might, and the poor by 
their virtues ; but a different moral rule has of late 
entered our land, whereby many of the wealthy are 
becoming rich in those graces which ennoble humanity ; 
and therefore ought our souls to overflow with gratitude. 

This overflowing or spontanous working of mind was 
really the cause of these Stanzas on Her Majesty's Visit 
to Castle-Howard. With the first announcement of the 
intended journey, certain preparations were made along 
the route, and a degree of enthusiastic loyalty displayed 
which drew from me those expressions of pleasure which 
constitute, chiefly, the first part of the piece, even 
before I began to think of writing formally on the subject. 
And arriving at the end of the first part, I thought not of 
proceeding any further, till the observation of a friend, that 
I had not mentioned the royal children, threw me head- 
long into the second part ; and, having completed that 
portion, I again shut up my manuscript with the intention 
of doing no more. A copy of these two parts was, through 
the kindness of the Right Honourable the Earl of Carlisle, 
presented to Her Majesty at Castle-Howard ; but I after- 
wards thought the remaining portions a necessary com- 
pliment to the other distinguished persons, and a natural 
conclusion to the subject. A. G. T. 



HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, &c. 

Part I. 



*' Jam Fides, et Pax, et Honor, Pudorque 
Priscus, et neglecta redire Virtus 
Audet: apparet que "beata pleno 

Copia Cornu. HoE. 

(Now Faith., and Peace, and Honour, and ancient Modesty, and 
neglected Virtue daxe to return, and joyful Plenty appears with, 
her full horn.) 



Hail ! grand auspicious morning ! hail ! 

Lift up thy curtains high ! 
And shed abroad a genial tint 

Across th' extended sky! 

Behold ! our Queen comes forth to-day ! 

The Queen of British Isles ! — 
Victoria travels out to see 

Her nation's cheerful smiles ! 

Hold up, ye clouds, your sluggish wings ! 

To upper skies ascend ! 
Nor, overshadowing the sun, 

With frowns o'er earth impend ! 

Shine out, thou soVreign light of day, 
With bright transcendent blaze ! 

Till all creation, filPd with bliss, 
Shall hymn its Maker's praise. 

Then, blithe and mirthful, every scene 

Shall laugh without alloy, 
And well beguile our Lady's way 

With plenitude of joy. 

Lo ! now she comes ! The children shout, 

And wave their tokens high ! 
And men, and maids, and matrons press 

Their SoVreign to espy ! 

m 2 



! 



126 her majesty's visit 

The instruments of martial sound 

Burst forth melodiously, 
With harmony that gives relief 

To our excess of glee ! 
And as Minerva taught the Prince, 

(Bellerophon, the fair,) 
On Pegasus, the winged horse, 

To triumph in the air ; 
So now hath godly wisdom taught 

That artfulness of plan 
Wherein the might of very God 

Obeys the will of man. 
Hence, fleeter than the striving winds, 

For our good Queen we form 
A steed that mocks the tempest's flight, 

And leaves the chasing storm ! 
Nor need we Mercury to bear 

The swifter tidings hence ; 
With both his winged hat and heels 

The gods can now dispense ! 
When, like a goddess going forth, 

Victoria would stray, 
EVii Lightning's self foreruns, and says, 

Prepare ! — prepare her way ! 

All universal pow'r conspires 

To aid th' anointed Queen, 
Till, like an Indian arrow flown, 

She's past, and scarcely seen ! 
Lo ! cautious Earth his mantle threw *, 

To shield her from our sight ! 
So sacred is her safety held 

By all superior might. 
Yet, envious Terra, why so churl 

With too officious care ? 
For we would smite the hand that dar'd 

To harm our noble Fair. 
That foul, presumptuous cloud of sand 

I charge thee to restrain ! 
Nor mar with dust, nor hide from view, 

That Lady or her train ! 

* Swift trains usually throw up a cloud of dust, in dry weather, not very- 
gracious to the vision of bystanders. 






TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 127 

Behold ! how modestly she runs ! 

No ostentation's seen ! 
And hist'ry shows in virtuous worth 

Never her rival Queen ! 

When Seroiramis went abroad, 

She drench'd the earth in blood 
From Nineveh, through Asia's bounds, 

EVn to old India's flood ! 

Pah- Helen, by her wanton pride, 

Prepar'd the grave of Troy, 
And made her native Grecian home 

Pay dearly for her joy ! 

When Cleopatra, Egypt's Queen, 

Sail'd in her glory-boat, 
To ape the Venus what she could, 

All vanities were sought ! 

But our Victoria scorns such airs, 

And travels meekly on ; 
You seldom know she's on her way 

Before she's really gone ! 

From Scarbro', once, we " put to sea," 

To greet our passing Queen, 
With many more, who had not then 

Their Royal Mistress seen! 

When, lo ! so stealthily she steer'd 

Along the "offing" way, 
We scarcely saw her "pennant" wave, 

So slight was her display ! 

With lofty canvass, through the spray 

We seem'd to almost fly ; 
But in th' horizon, lost to view, 

She taught us all " good-bye !" 

We "veer'd about," and "made a tack" 

To our " intended port," 
And soon again were harbour'd safe 

Under the ancient fort. 

Some thousands from the " Castle-cliff" 

Throng'd to the " Lighthouse Pier," 
Of what the Queen to us had said 

Some short report to hear ! ! 



128 her majesty's visit 

Such now again ! She hies away 

Without the last parade ! 
And seems to wish that we would not 

Her quietude invade ! 

Vulcan ! thou lord of forging skill, 

Now warrant well thine art ! 
And bid the rails, and bolts, and springs 

Act well their destin'd part ! 

And hush yon 'streperous din, whose rage 

Must some annoyance yield ; 
Let those impetuous chariot-wheels 

To silence be anneal'd ! 

Electrify or Galvanize, 

Or seek ethereal aid, 
To cushion with a soft'ning spell 

All thy discordant trade ! 

Then, as it were, on angels' wings 

She'll view her wide domain ; 
Or, as in a celestial car, 

Drive through th' extended plain ! 

Ye guardian spirits, from purer realms, 

Benignantly descend ! 
From worldly harm and worldly fear 

Her Majesty defend ! 

As the good genius taught the sage* 
To feel what thoughts were ill ; 

Then left him free, when he was right, 
To follow all his will ; 

As the twin deities t appear'd, 

Like men who travell'd hard, 
To save from an impending death 

Their very favourite Bard J ; 

Or, as the heav'nly guide who gave 

The flaming sign by night, 
And held by day the pillar' d cloud - 

To guide the saints aright ; 
So, dread eternal Pow'r of heaVn, 

Ordain some blessed guest 
To guide our Sovereign in the course 

Of all whate'er is best ! 

* Socrates. t Castor and Pollux. $ Simonides. 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 129 

! be her virtue ever pure — 

Her spirit ever fair; 
And well preseiVd from all that's wrong, 

And all that can impair ! 

In Howard Castle now enshrin'd, 

She walks those ancient halls ; 
And we'll hold sacred for her sake 

Those old familiar walls ! 

Let no rude loyalty approach 

With over-rustic stare, 
T" intrude amid her rural peace, 

Or mar her bliss with care ! 

For crowned heads, like others, wish 

At times for quiet bliss ; 
And all would have our Queen t' enjoy 

A sweet retreat like this ! 

'T would seem a gen'rous breath is here 

Of dignity and worth, 
That in celestial, balmy life 

Is gently stealing forth. 

'Tis like some high empyreal sphere, 

Such influence fills the air 
As sure on earth's wide confines nought 

Could with this spot compare ! 

Hush ! — heard'st thou not the warbling sweets 

Of universal notes, 
Like cherubs whispering, when their voice 

Through rarest ether floats ? 

Nay, Philo heard not, for his clay 

Is base and ill refin'd ; 
And Music speaks to those alone 

Who have a tuneful mind ! 

But wonder not if Heaven be here 

To guard those earthly Pow'rs, 
Or angels should for once descend 

To such terrestrial bow'rs ! 

Ye sylvan hills, where oft we ran, 

Assume the smiling spring ! 
Ye feather'd choirs devoutly join 

Your various joys to sing ! 



ISO HER MAJESTY'S VISIT 

Ye ancient deer, your gambols show 

Sportive across the Park ; 
And, o'er th' expansive waters, ye 

Aquatic fowls embark. 

Declining in the western skies, 

Thou ev'ning sun illume, 
With soft refulgent rays, the views 

These beauteous scenes assume ! 

Old Echo ! with thy mocking tongue, 
Strange hoary woodland ghost ! 

Resume the many nightly sounds 
Thy mystic home can boast ! 

The routy deer and wisdom-bird 

Oft make creation ring ! 
Or in these hallow'd groves, perchance, 

Sweet Philomel may sing ! 

But what in forest, park, or lawn 

Shall vocalize the eve, 
Still mimic, with untiring zeal, 

Whate'er thou canst receive ! 

Ye rural phantasies that charm 
The ev'ning wand'rer's nerve, 

Sooth and delight, as best ye can, 
Those guests ye seldom serve ! 

That Howard's Royal Friends may feel 

An all-enchanting spell 
"Welcome them to this Paradise, 

And make them love it well ! 

That when, on her intended tour, 

Her Majesty goes hence, 
She may of this old Castle home 

Retain a grateful sense ! 

And, on departure, may much joy 

Amongst her smiles be seen, 
Whilst honest Yorkshire shouts, " Long live 

Victoria the Queen !" 

Haste round, bright golden morn ! repeat 

The bliss this ev'ning gave, 
And fill those souls to pleasure given 

With all delight they crave. 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 131 

For thee, Priuce Consort, as thou would' st 

Explore the Border scene, 
For thine own sake, we wish thee sport, 

And for our much-lov'd Queen ! 

Then hie to Scotia, once again, 

With the returning year ! 
Away to Caledonia's hills, 

To stalk the Highland deer. 

Away across the mountain-tops, 

Amongst the heather game ! 
Or where the forest tempts thy gun 

"With birds of beauteous fame ! 

Both, with your nation's blessings, go 

Where'er ye have design' d — 
A happy, youthful Sov'reign Pair 

As seldom we may find ! 



SONG. 

All hail ! Victoria the Fair ! — 

Thy victories of love 
Thy subjects glory much to share, 
And their adhesion prove. 
While the ravages of war 
Send their desolations far, 
O'er continental lands, 
Proudly, nobly, still thy throne 
On the People's love alone, 
The firmest basis, stands. 

Should foreign foes thy peace disturb, 

Or Revolutions try, 
Thy loyal hosts such wrath will curb, 
And all their hate defy. 
Heav'n thy duteous tribes will bless, 
Shield them when hot dangers press, 

And English rights defend. 
Lady Chief ! Victoria, still 
'Tis thy loyal Nation's will 
To hail thee Queen and Friend ! 






HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, Ac. 

Part II. 



"Magnus ab intergo seclorum nascitur ordo. 
Jam redit et Virgo : redeunt Saturnia regna : 
Jam nova progenies coelo demittitur alto." "ViR. 

(The great series of revolving years begins anew ; and n 
returns the Virgin. ; the Saturnian reigns return, and a n 
progeny descends from lofty Heaven.) 



Illustrious Queen and Consort, hear 
Your nation's solemn pray'r ; 

Ev'n when intent on pleasure's call, 
Deny us not your care. 

For ye can make or mar our peace— 

Our fate obeys your seal ; 
Ye can envelop us in wo, 

Or fortify our weal ! 

'Tis true no hostile host we fear ; 

We scorn a coward's flight ! 
And, while we bear the English name, 

We'll shun no equal fight ! 

We ask not, then, your toil in wars, 
To meet our marshall'd foe ; 

Or, to beseech a tyrant's grace, 
As our petitioners go. 

Nor do we pray you spare our crimes, 
But, with the two-edg'd sword, 

Cleave to the inner soul the man 
Who merits such reward. 

Nor ask we ye to bribe, or buy 

Our courtesies with gold ; 
For we'll maintain your thi'one as high 

As e'er it was of old. 



HER MAJESTY'S VISIT, &C. 133 

Nor will we crave for flattering words, 

Although your smiles we love, 
And we will rush impetuous on 

When ye but deign t' approve. 

Repay then us (who love you so) 

With this much gratitude ; 
(Nor think the Bard too bold who thus 

His stanzas dare intrude). 

We have within your charge a Prince 

Of genealogic fame ! 
Your guardianship will form his youth — 

His manhood we must claim. 

This scion of illustrious blood 

Is mighty England's hope ; 
His prospect is to be our King ! 

And with our foes to cope ! 

We hail'd his birth with merry bells, 

And songs of high delight ! 
Britain, like a new-married spouse, 

Thought him her only might ! 

And many pious souls pour'd forth 

Their heav'uly savour'd pra/i-, 
Burden'd with special striving for 

This new-born treasure's care ! 

Heav'n, thus besieg'd, appears to yield 

To grant the fond request ; 
And hence with all auspicious good 

Our Prince of Wales is blest ! 

Nor weary is this national love ; 

Its ardour, as at first, 
Is ever ready, when 'tis meet, 

In greater zeal to burst. 

Then, if you possibly could lose 

The private parent's heart ! 
Still, for the sake of England, act 

The Royal Teacher's part. 

As England by you both is loVd, 

Your true regard evince, 
By rearing with incessant care 

Your Son ! our hopeful Prince ! 



134 her majesty's visit 

Teach him to know that wisdom is 

A Ruler's chief support ; 
That virtue ever will be found 

A nation's strongest fort ! 

Teach him that firm security- 
Is founded on the rock 

Of Truth, that's unimpeachable, 
And fears no earthly shock ! 

Teach him that lasting kingdoms stand 

By the eternal might 
Of Justice, held with even hand, 

For all men's equal right. 

Teach him, in all concerns through life 
To fear the King of kings, 

And look to Him as to the fount 
Whence ev'ry glory springs ! 

Your vast dominion daily feels 

A growing load of care, 
Thro' num'rous ills that ever strive 

Its glory to impair. 

With blood imbrued, the outer world 

Completes its awful fate ; 
And constant vigilance we need 

To thwart its plotting hate ; 

Lest error, like a mighty flood, 
Should drench this happy realm, 

And in the pit of moral death 
Our greatness overwhelm. 

Whilst in this nation demons dwell, 

That gnaw it to the core, 
Intent to tear its vitals out, 

And revel on our gore. 

Thus, deadly foes attack the throne 

Of our apparent Heir ; 
And 'tis your Royal charge for these 

The Prince to well prepare. 

The heaving mounts of public mind 

That rise to present view 
Demand another serious thought, 

While passing in review. 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 135 

All things assume a new array ! 

Old Time has made his flight ! 
His store is gone, save some tew rays 

Of still congenial light ! 

New visions more extensive rise 

To circumfuse the earth ! 
Society has travell'd through 

An all-transforming birth ! 

The old experience of the kings, 

Or precepts of the sage, 
Require reeoining now to suit 

This metamorphos'd age ! 

All pristine principles are hid 

In such unheard-of schemes ; 
Men find much trouble to descry 

Their once familiar themes. 

(Ev'n when the ghosts of former times 

Come back to see their home, 
Tliey Teen so little in this world, 

They're ceasing now to roam !) 

Hence have our senators much time 

In new decrees to pass, 
To keep the kingdom safe amidst 

The huge fermenting mass. 

And, like the onward era, we 

Must daily, too, progress ; 
For the last apex we shall gain 

Seems difficult to guess ! 

Methinks that from Creation's morn 

A gleam of reason shot, 
T' attend the changing path of man, 

And light his varied lot ; 

Sometimes in moral darkness hid, 

When vice prevail'd awhile, 
This sheen of mortals seem'd extinct, 

And HeaVn refus'd to smile, 

Till some redeeming wisdom, sent 

To trim the flick'ring light, 
Added each time a further ray 

To dissipate the night. 



136 her majesty's visit 

So, oft enlarg'd, this ancient gleam 

Has grown a moral sun, 
And in a circuit through the earth 

A gen'rous course has run ! 

Should now this radiance be eclips'd 

By some inglorious pow'r, 
How horrid would the influence be 

That o'er mankind would low'r ! 

Or, should th' Almighty Intellect 

In one grand focus bind 
All wisdom's rays, and join them back 

To the primeval mind ; 

Then would the world to bliss advance, 
Safe with the light that's given, 

And happy tribes on earth should join 
To rival those in heaven ! 

Hence, whether way the question turns, 

'Tis such momentous fate 
As should, in all well-order'd minds, 

A deep concern create. 

But chiefly those who govern realms 
Need mark each new event, 

And learn therefrom to gain new bliss, 
Or evils to prevent ! 

To thee, young glorious Prince of Wales, 

This is essential Truth, 
Wherewith thy mind should be imbu'd 

E'en in its tender youth, 

That, rightly train' d, like some stout oak 
Of proud, unflinching form, 

True principles in thee shall grow 
Firmer by ev'ry storm. 

Or, in the quiet days of peace, 

Be thine the joy to heap 
Such fruits within this happy isle 

As nations seldom reap. 

Our bliss and thine in union twin'd,. 

Must flourish hand in hand ; 
A truly happy King must rule 

Over a happy land 1 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 137 

How vast, ye Royal Parents, then, 

Those themes ye should inspire 
Into our Prince, to fill his soul 

With patriotic fire ! 

How vast the precepts ye should teach 

Of universal skill, 
"Whilst yet his youthful passions bend 

Obedient to your wilL 

To brighter fame than Philip bought, 

He's bom ! We must provide 
A more than ancient Stagyrite 

To be our hero's guide ! 

And yet, Eternal God, forbid 

This Prince should early reign ; 
But may his glorious Mother-Queen 

Her office long retain ! 

Till, through the lapse of many years, 

Her Majesty hath given 
Her energies to bless her land, 

And slept away to heaven ! 

Then, in a stately ripen'd prime 

(When, too, the Bard's gone hence,) 

This realm shall hail our Prince its king, 
Its glory, its defence ! 

Then, noble Prince, perpetuate 

Our Royal Lineage ! 
And to our British records add 

Another brighter page ! 

That future generations may 

Oft praise the fruits of this ! 
And England thrive and travel on 

Through long-extended bliss ! 

And may eternal Wisdom's Sun 

Each day more brightly shine ! 
Till human intellect climbs up 

To join the Light Divine ! 

Then the Millennium, often sought, 

Shall greet the universe ! 
And the pure happiness of heav'n 

All earthly care disperse. 

i2 



HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, fo 

Part III. 



THE LOYAL FESTIVITIES AT CASTLE-HOWARD. 

" Happy, thrice happy they, 
"Whose graceful deeds have exemplary shone 
Bound the gay precincts of a throne 
With mild effective "beams." 

Shenstoni 



From Henderskelf the vapours rise, 
Curling amongst the spires, 

And token the old English joy 
Of bright congenial fires. 

The saVry perfumes tell the toil 

Of culinary art, 
Replete with all the varied skill 

Experience can impart. 

The bounteous Earl invites his guests 

Of Royal British fame ; 
And Princes, Lords, and Ladies fair 

Of honourable name. 

His verdant hills and dales supply 
The fatted flocks and herds, 

And many rural dames produce 
Their fav'rite broods of birds. 

Intent to aid their gen'rous Lord 
With aught that's good and rare, 

The husbandmen their purest stock 
In rivalry prepare. 

Well pleas'd to find his Lordship mark 

The energy they use, 
And well repaid for what his taste 

May condescend to choose, 



her majesty's visit, &c. 139 

Some with the fatted, snowy lamb, 

Or choicest calf will vie ; 
With bullock stout, or heifer fair, 

Some more for favour try. 

The cauldron boils, the spit revolves, 

With flame the ovens roar, 
And steamers fume, awhile the cooks 

Trip nimbly o'er the floor. 

So roast and boil'd are soon prepar'd, 

And serv'd in neatest style, 
When all the hungry nobles deign 

To give a nat'ral smile ! 

For such is nature's course of joy, 

When health the system fills, 
That food inspires a cheerful mind, 

And rectifies our wills. 

No vain magnificence presumes 

To show its mean parade ; 
Though equal to the high-born guests 

Is preparation made. 

This shows our nation's growing sense, 

The wisdom of the great, 
Who for superfluous goods exchange 

A comforting estate. 

Unpleasing now that table pride 

Of gormandizing kings, 
Which made them rival who could dine 

On most unwonted things. 

Such gen'rous food as cheers the blood 

Rich people now advise ; 
The choicest parts themselves may use, 

The rest their house sur 



Now well-fed oxen seven bled, 
And five fat bucks were shot ; 

Of heather game were us'd some scores, 
Of poultry quite a lot ! 

Some forty sheep, four splendid calves, 

And many lambs were slain ; 
Of which, when all our friends were gone, 

But few did whole remain ! 



140 HER MAJESTY'S VISIT 

Besides, were pastries richly made, 

And moulded very neat, 
And fruits of extra luscious juice 

Most beautiful and sweet. 

Of native oysters thousands came 

In flavour much esteem'd, 
And old and mellow cheerful wines 

A nectar fountain stream'd. 

Thus was the Princely Feast ordain'd 

With wise refining taste ; 
From all barbaric usage clear — 

Plenty, devoid of waste. 

Meanwhile, as the magnetic pole, 
Besides the common cheer, 

Our Queen attracts the joyous mood 
In eVry soul that's here. 

None can be melancholy where 
Such Queen of virtue sits, 

Or act the cynic round the board 
Of these resplendent wits. 

Here, by Her Majesty, is plac'd, 
Tall, manly, fair, and bland, 

That fine, accomplish'd, favourite Prince 
From the Teutonic Land, — 

Albert, the military chief 

And patron of the arts, 
By birth and training well prepar'd 

To act those various parts. 

And here's the pride of English blood, 
Suffus'd with virtue's smile — 

The star of British noblemen, 
The honour'd Earl Carlisle ! 

The Graces love his gen'rous soul, 

And consecrate his voice 
By all the charms of eloquence 

That are the Muses' choice ! 

For, like the loveliest summer fiow'rs, 
His words are sweet and rich ; 

His speech hath such harmonious chords 
As really to bewitch. 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 141 

His gentle influence where he dwells 

With peace the country fills, 
And round his princely mansion bliss 

Like honey-dew distils. 

Kind charity constrains his soul 

To ev'ry good intent ; 
To ease humanity of care 

His thoughts are wholly bent. 

His lib'ral hand relieves the poor 

Where grievous want appears, 
And all who know him wish my Lord 

Many and happy years. 

Nor yet is this a flatt'rer's praise, 

Or flourish of the verse, 
For were my theme from numbers free, 

More worth I should rehearse. 

'Tis but the slightest echo giVn 

To England's long acclaim, 
That daily lauds its Earl Carlisle, 

Morpeth and Howard's fame. 

The Countess Dowager is here, 

In venerable years 
Her loyal joy amid her guests 

Conspicuously appears. 

The Lady Mary charms the board 

With almost grace divine ; 
Her virtues are the country's boast, 

Where gloriously they shine. 

The noble Duchess Sutherland 

Supports her lofty birth ; 
And Dover, Lascelles, Grower, and Grey 

Are guests of special worth. 

And Lord and Lady Peversham, 

Of large and rich domain ; 
And Dufferin and Clifden Lords 

Augment the Royal train. 

Sir John, the Hackness Baronet, 

Of Johnstone's favour'd name — 
A kind, humane, and bounteous knight. 

Brings honourable fame. 



142 her majesty's visit 

His sylvan hills, and crystal streams, 

And fine romantic dales, 
Are to the Muse well-known, and there 

A wealthy joy prevails. 

Here's Prescott, from America, 

Whose rich historic page 
Augments the literary store 

Of this important age. 

Seymour, the brave Lord Mayor of York, 
Old Ebor's fame maintains ; 

And Leeman, spirited and free, 
Th' esteem of many gains. 

Sir Tatton Sykes throws off his age, 

And sporting corduroy, 
To dance his merry, loyal freaks 

As buxom as a boy ! 

Scarbro', inur'd to thoughts refin'd, 

Confirms her pristine zeal, 
And greets Her Majesty with love, 

Pledg'd by her borough seal. 

Her Doctor Harland, justly priz'd 

For philosophic skill, 
She sends to bear the token forth, 

And urge her loyal will ! 

And Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen, 

Of other honour'd names 
To the descriptive Poet's pen 

Present undoubted claims. 

But with th' omitted Friends, the Bard 
Must for their pardon sue ; 

He had no means to know them all, 
Or to record their due. 

Virtue and Modesty prevail'd, 
And Reason crown'd the Feast ; 

And thus the common joys of man 
By Wisdom are increas'd. 

Nor yet was glory temporal 

The only object sought ; 
But to inspire her heavnly breath 

Fair Piety was brought. 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 143 

For England's Primate comes to give 

The sacerdotal grace — 
Ebor's Archbishop, Musgrave, reigns 

Right worthy of his place. 

And near him stands, in Bishop's right, 

Longley, of Bipon's See, 
Held famous for his classic taste, 

And pious, kind, and free. 

In " holy orders," many more 

Victoria honour'd here, 
By joining with them round the board 

To feast on Howard's cheer. 

Her Majesty then pleas'd to bless 

Young children with a thought, 
And twelve of Howard's village schools 

Around the Queen were brought. 

A feast of harmony, prepar'd 

By Chatsworth's thrilling band, 
Was wholly stay'd, to mark the stroke 

Of Death's unflinching hand ! 

The slaying angel's ruthless might 

For no distinction cares ; 
All grades of men, all powers, and names 

He in his triumph bears. 

Louis, the once renown'd of France, 

Has felt the mortal-sword, 
And to his friends our noble guests 

Their sympathy accord. 

Hence, not a single revel note 

Presum'd to mar the scene ; 
A modest mirth alone prevail' d 

Around our virtuous Queen. 

'Tis thus the gentler virtues rule 

With meekly soft'ning sway, 
That must dispel those sterner traits 

Which fighting kings display. 

Happy the nation where the rage 

Of fierce emotion dies ; 
And Peace, Humanity* and Love 

The Monarch daily tries. 



144 her majesty's visit, <fec. 

So much akin to Heav'n is Love, 

War so allied to Hell, 
That all rejoice whose lot is cast 

Where Peace consents to dwell. 

Thus is eternal Truth fulfill' d. 
When Crowns her right maintain, 

And by the rules of pious might 
Alone attempt to reign. 

0, that the radicles of Truth 
Would take effective root, 

Till all the tribes of men are fed 
On her celestial fruit. 

'Tis hopeful now the time is nigh 
When Truth shall gain the sway, 

And Bangs and Queens of ev'ry land 
Her kind behests obey ! 



#*|? • 



HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, &c. 

Part IV. 



'Tis not a troop of -well-appointed guards 
Create a Monarch. — not a purple robe 
Dy'd in the people's blood : not all the crowns 
Or dazzling tiars that bend about the head, 
Tho' gilt with sunbeams and set round with stars." 

"Watts. 



Now, may it please your Majesty, 

Is this no grateful scene, 
When crowds, in such sequester'd place, 

Thus loyally convene ? 

In this wide county lives a race 

Of stout and hardy swains, 
Who for their country's weal would drain 

Of blood their deepest veins. 

No light enerving arts have they 

To mar their sturdy toil ; 
But patiently, through longest days, 

They cultivate their soil. 

Yon summit of the Yorkshire Wolds, 

Of late a barren hill, 
Attests the peasants' husbandry, 

And tasteful rural skill ! 

Many a wide-expanded plain 

The laughing produce yields 
Of crops that fill their patient hands 

In ripen' d corny fields. 

Amid the num'rous verdant dales 

They cut the fragrant mead, 
And dress the tufty pastures well 

Whereon their cattle feed. 



146 her majesty's visit. 

And e'en the moorland wilderness 

Begins to bless the care 
Of some, whose very hardest frames, 

Can its privations bear. 

Though rude are native Yorkshiremen, 

And plain in ev'ry cause ! 
(They're rude, indeed, where much they love I 

But ruder with their foes !) 

Yet should Her Majesty require 

Some day a valiant host, 
Perhaps this hard, unpolish'd race 

Would gain her special boast ! 

So, then, connive at what in them 

May seem the most uncouth, 
And view their straight, unfawning modes 

As simple native truth. 

See how from all the country round 

They start at early dawn 
To pay devotion to the Queen 

Who heir'd their nation's throne. 

Thousands on this auspicious day 

Assume their better graces, 
Till Howard's Park is densely fill'd 

With hearty smiling faces. 

That Sun as beautifully shines 

As ever, since on high 
The voice Omnipotent call'd forth 

His radiance in the sky. 

Abroad the Royal Party drives, 

To mark the gorgeous views 
O'er woodland hills, along the plains, 

Or through the avenues. 

The pawing, snorting steeds advance — 

The Sutherland fine greys — 
And Earl Carlisle's high-temper'd stud 

Of " blood and Cleveland bays !" 

And many more sagacious beasts 

Display their nat'ral pride : 
Some draw the noble and the fair ! 

On some the horsemen ride ! 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 147 

A loud applause runs through the lines 

Where'er the party moves, 
And graciously our Sovereign shows 

How she our will approves. 

But these delightful, blithsome hours 

Appear too swiftly gone, 
And soon Her Majesty prepares 

To push her journey on. 

To take, may be, their last farewell — 

A gen'rous parting glance, 
Again the loyal multitudes 

With ardent zeal advance. 

Yon mansion-door which fronts the north 

Falls back to yield the way, 
And all her path with crimson cloth 

Is carpeted so gay ! 

Then, usher'd by the Noble Earl, 

Her Majesty steps forth, 
To leave the princely Howard House, 

And journey further north. 

The Royal Guests the chariot mount, 

Devoid of pomp or pride, 
And fine dragoons, in order good, 

Array on either side. 

Through loud huzzas the courser snorts 

That bears the Earl Carlisle ; 
He and his brethren lead the way 

In true baronial style ! 

Off, too, the dashing charioteers 

Let fly each ready horse, 
And to the Railway Station soon 

They run a rapid course ! 

More thousands here again are met 

To bid the Queen adieu ! 
To cheer her off with brisk applause, 

And take a parting view ! 

The gorgeous engine, strong and free, 

Puffs out and fumes amain — 
So loath to stand that scarce she can 

Her swelling steam restrain. 



148 her majesty's visit 

Then steadily along the curves 

The locomotive starts, 
And quickly soon along the line 

She like the lightning darts ! 

Good bye, fair Lady ! — fare ye well ! 

Perhaps 'twill be for ever 
That distance from our rustic gaze 

Your Majesty will sever ! 

Perhaps no more these woodland heights 

Your Majesty may view ; 
Or, through these undulating vales, 

Your royal course pursue ! 

Perhaps no more our rural tribes 

May see your welcome face, 
That in its gladd'ning smile hath brought 

Such pleasure to this place ! 

But whatsoe'er of vai-ying life 

The unknown future bears, 
Or to the Queen or subject brings 

Successive joys or cares. 

No matter what the Fates decree, 

Or Providence ordains, 
So long as Virtue is our aim, 

And Truth our life sustains ; 

So long as the fraternal bond 

Of holy purpose draws 
The subject and the sov'reign pow'r 

To one good common cause ; 

So long as moral rectitude 

Directs our national course, 
To give our constitution^ rights 

Their whole essential force ; 

Even so long will heav'n-born might 

Infuse throughout our Isle 
The health of nations, stout and fair, 

To make Britannia smile ! 

Let sceptic Revolutionists 

Sneer at our loyal views, 
Or with the jeer of " English slaves" 

Our constancy abuse. 



TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 149 

No menial slaves our Fathers were, 

But men of martial pride, 
Who through the nations ev'rywhere 

Their enemies defied ! 

And we're degen'rate sons indeed, 

If we deny the cause 
Wherein they sacrific'd their blood 

To seal their cherish' d laws. 

They rear'd a courteous Monarchy, 

Because they thought it best, 
Whereby their rights are well maintain' d — 

Their grievances redress' d. 

Then let anarchic nations howl 

Like wolves about their prey, 
While rending in their rebel feuds 

Their might and bliss away. 

For us we yet will court the rule 

Of kind Monarchal sway, 
As when, on patriarchal modes, 

The youths the sire obey I 

The charge of cowardice reverts 

On those who make the jeer ; 
For Englishmen respect their pow'rs — 

They love, but scorn to fear ! 

The coward scarce could emanate 

From such unyielding might, 
As our forefathers often proVd 

Could struggle, bleed, and fight ! 

But this, the canine vanity 

Of sturdy flesh and bone, 
Should give no pride to man ! — it adds 

Poor glory to a throne ! 

Be ours the greater victory 

Of high intelligence ! 
Of vast superior moral strength, 

And more exalted sense. 

Be ours the dignity to strive, 

By scientific light, 
And all the peaceful arts of life 

To fix our nation's might. 



150 HER MAJESTY'S VISIT, &C. 

Be ours the most ennobling course, 
The path of Truth to seek, 

And, like the famous Hebrew chief, 
Though mighty, yet be meek. 

For to endure the Despot's rule 
Our tempers could not bear ! 

A Tyrant o'er the English Realm 
Would find but slender fare ! 

Yet different far our feelings rise 
When virtuous Monarchs reign ! 

They find us ready to obey, 
And our affections gain ! 

Hence we will rally round our Throne, 
From choice and pure delight ; 

We, Englishmen, could scarcely form 
A commonwealth aright ! 

Then go, fair Lady, cheerly blithe, 

Of English love secure ! 
A love that's free from selfish guile, 

And in affection pure ! 

Still tread the path that virtue marks 
With firm, unfalt'ring feet ! 

On ! — to a nobler Kingdom lead, 
Where we desire to meet ! 

HeaVn will asist a good intent, 

Or aid a righteous cause ! 
And bear the just in triumph on, 

Though men and fiends oppose ! 

So shall we live secure and free, 
Honour'd by all mankind, 

Whilst we with glorious pow'r maintain 
The empire of the Mind ! 

Then, 0, celestial Truth, cement 

Our Nation's social ties ! 
Till Wisdom guides us to the Realms 

Where Virtue gains her prize ! 



MEDITATIONS 

ON TH3 

MOEAL AND SOCIAL TEMPEBAMENT 

OF 

THE TIMES. 



'' Te will surely say unto me this proverb, Physician, heal 
thyself."— St. Luke, iv. 23. 



CHAPTER I. 

England's Genius— Of Enterprise, Pleasure, Commerce — The 
Ancient Powers — Danger of Prosperity — Modern Humanity 3 
Religion, and Morality. 

Ye brighter moods of purity and bliss, 
That once would deign to cheer my mundane path, 
But oft neglected, to my certain cost, 
Now retribute me by your cold reserve ; 
For, as Laplandish winter freezes down 
The summer-bloom, so ye have sorely cut 
The aspirations of my youthful soul ; 
And, long abraded by the blunting schemes, 
In baser worldly principles beset, 
The glory of my virtue feels to yield 
Submission unto meaner purposes : 
Return and cheer my sinking energies ! 
Retune my broken chords of Nature's harp ; 
Inspire my will with conscious rectitude ; 



152 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Your influence lend ; all genial aid bestow, 
And fill with virtue my aspiring song ! 
Aid me to sing my nation's wond'rous spirit, 
The lev'n of multitudes, that works the mass 
Into a thousand varied, magic forms — 
The universal schemes which permeate 
Our various circles of society. 

As active and elastic as the air 
Is England's free-born genius ; bold and firm 
To ransack all the known and unknown lands ; 
To bear dominion forth ; then, laden rich 
With honied wealth from ev'ry clime, return, 
And build our country up in glorious deeds ! 

Yet England's metamorphos'd ; much she's chang'd 
From Nature's wisdom of the olden times ! 
What once the Poet sang is now no more — 
Her brave heroic Chivalry and Love ; 
Her Hospitality, the country's boast ; 
The splendour of her ancient Baron Halls, 
Where Minstrelsy and Plenty hail'd the guests, 
Or rich or poor, who wander' d near the spot ; 
Affrighted now by swollen multitudes, 
That would consume the goods of all the Lords, 
She gravely shuts her door, and keeps her stores 
To feed her fast-increasing progeny, 
Who fill her home with blessed hungry mouths. 
No more the hall is throng'd with vassal serfs, 
Who fear their lord, and on his bounty live ! 
No more the rural chieftain heads the sports, 
Or calls the village to his bounteous board ! 

Now, in America, in Russia, France, 
Or China, or the Indies, in the staff 
Of Fortune's courtiers, see the charter'd great 
Their myriad schemes of aggrandizement push ; 
See now the Peers imbibe the trading zest ! 
While Merchants with the Noblemen compete 
For wealth and honours, pow'r and costly state ! 
Awhile the amiable country 'Squire, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 153 

Who heirs some pulse of old simplicity, 
Outstripp'd by overpow'ring vanity 
Of show — the moving spirit of the day — 
With little he can do, though good at heart, 
Hath oft to scourge old Charity away, 
Who privately doth question him in soul. 

Men now to lofty speculations fly 
Till all their surplus cash is swallow'd up ; 
We mar kind Nature's sweet and guileless worth ; 
Even the poor scarce know their pristine course ; 
And lords with lords, and great ones with the great 
Maintain exclusive rights of etiquette, 
Wherein the sainted Fathers of our race 
Would be so strange as ne'er to rise in fame ! 

Yet bless'd with Liberty, our nation grows, 
Directed by the prudence of the wise, 
Unheeding primitive felicity, 
Ourselves fight on, and guard our civil rights, 
Love and obey our Rulers and our Laws. 

These are portentous times, when Peace hath drawn 
Th' inventive genius of the people forth, 
To rear and teach the Sciences and Arts — 
Our country's boon, the sun of gen'ral joy ; 
When thriving commerce swells the spreading sails 
Of richly-laden fleets, stor'd with the wealth, 
The produce of all countries ; now, when gold 
Makes men run riot after fancied good — 
Incites their zealous hands to rend the earth, 
And tear her bowels out without remorse. 
Our rival tribes, inebriate for gain, 
O'errun each other in the hot pursuit, 
And, contrary to what their nature taught, 
Inflict commercial ruin, blast the hope, 
The trade and being of the man, at once, 
Who by too feeble strength obstructs their path ; 
Exulting up the pinnacle of joy, 
They push their prosp'ring schemes beyond the pow'r 
Of human wit to rule, and, the reverse 



154 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Our trading Kings encount'ring, are in turn 
Low levell'd with the humble, wond'ring throng. 
Our too inflated bubbles burst, and oft 
Th' excessive efforts work themselves the cure, 
Though oft ingulf th' unwary by surprise. 
This overgrown prosperity hath sway'd 
Her boasted sceptre o'er our smiling land, 
And alter'd things in aspects and in names ; 
Hath moulded manners into different forms ; 
Hath wrought out many strange alliances, 
Antipathies, and mingled bliss with strife, 
Estrang'd the nat'ral will, for good inclin'd, 
Into contentions, vice, and selfishness ; 
Hath made anew our old commercial deeds, 
And chang'd the essences of social life. 

And yet how long triumphant ? yet how fax- 
Shall Britain's wonderful dominion grow ? 
How long shall all the nations pour thee forth, 
The Cornucopia on thy greedy lap ? 
How long shall Seas confess thy sov'reign sway, 
And bend their waves obeisant to thy Fleets ? 

Old famous Troy, the seat of Love and War, 
O'erburden'd by delicious joys, hath sunk, 
And all her pleasure, pride, and wealth intomb'd. 

Nor long could Babylon maintain her sway 
Of luxury, refinement, ease, and pow'r ! 
Her site annihilated from the earth, 
Now nothing but her name is left to point 
Our mem'ry like some warning finger-post, 
To steer our course thro' whirlpools, rocks, and shoals 
That threaten danger to our stately bark. 

And Greece, in wisdom, taste, philosophy, 
The chief of ancient times, asunder split, 
Deep sunk to barbarism, is now the sport 
Of eVry vice and ev'ry cruel foe. 
And Rome, the nest of insolence and pride, 
The scourge of nations and the blight of peace, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 

Herself consum'd by villany and lust, 

Fell by the Gothic hands that she had scorn'd 

As savages unworthy of regard ! 

Then poor Napoleon, in himself deceiv'd, 
And by the Moscow enemies outschem'd, 
A prey to nat'i-al elements, succumb'd 
And suffer'd loss he scarcely could retrieve, 
Until, at Waterloo, he danc'd that morn 
To see, as he couceiv'd, within his claw, 
The foe he meant that day to sacrifice — 
And thence be free from all opposing pow'r, 
To mount the throne of fame, to rule what lands 
He should admit as worthy of his sway, 
But dash all else beyond the reach of hope : 
Yet, frail himself, as other creatures are, 
He fell before his victim, and was doom'd. 

So may some Northern Bear anon descend, 
And tear our Bull to fragments, or some wretch, 
Or some mischance betray him, unawares, 
Till well ingulf d, his sturdy strength be vain. 

I would not be a traitor, crying peace, 
Or sing in lullabies the funeral ode, 
To sooth my nation into moral death. 
Nay, rather, though ungracious, let me act 
The censor's part, and, probing well each wound, 
Expose whate'er is noxious, that herself 
May stay the growth of threat'ning future ill, 
And so escape all overthrowing vice, 
To rule triumphant by the pow'rs of Truth. 

Prosperity hath curse of graver dye 
Than ever deep adversity prescribes ; 
For it unbridles man, and sets him forth, 
Through all the world's extravagances, wild, 
And makes him mate to crimes he ne'er had known. 
It loosens the restrain' d, and sets away, 
Like a wild horse along the forest glade, 
The cautious, but to sacrifice his 
And barter ruin for his partial bliss, 



156 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

0, marvellous Prosperity ! ho w long ? 

How far ? how wide wilt thou extend thy reign, 

Before annihilation seals thy fate ? 

Yet, Father of the worlds, protect this Eealm 
From all the folly of mistaken sense ! 
And may we thus, comparatively blest, 
For ages yet unborn remain secure ! 
May no ungracious fiend betray our hopes, 
Nor false pretender circumvent our peace ! 

Ye sons of speculation, ease your toil ! 
Lean on your oars awhile, nor tempt the gale 
To drive you on the rough, unfriendly rocks ! 
Hold on, ye wonder-working giants, hold ! 
Ye, as with talismanic spell, control 
The elements, and glory in your might ! 
Yet hold ! lest some reverse of fate, should dash 
Your myriad schemes to deep oblivion, 
And ours should end a fallen, bankrupt Isle ! 

Not that we would deter, or bring you down 
One atom in the scale of consequence, 
Or once subtract a fraction from your might ; 
But would beseech you, lest the growth of fame, 
Or glimm'ring beauties of success, should slay 
The kindlier feelings which your nature gave ; 
Lest virtue's semblance should from you be riv'n, 
And cank'ring care consume your moral worth ; 
Till God resigns us wholly to our lust — 
A fearful curse, which far out-equals death ! 

Humanity has in our time become 
So fashionable, fanciful, and gay 
A maid, that her old mother, stable, grave, 
Can scarcely recognize her daughter's face 
For fancy dress, and curls, and sportive airs. 
Good old Morality lies at her feet, 
Bleeding, unconscious, fainting unto death, 
Awhile her pious children stand aloof, 
Or give rebukes, respectful, slight, and cool. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 157 

Now, if you offer schemes of worldly gain, 
Religion into morals cuts her dress, 
And seeming righteousness dissolves her creed 
Like the last remnant of the driven snow 
Perspiring by the hedge, beneath the sun, 
When sportive Spring is tempted forth to slay 
Old Winter, and his purifying works. 
Stern moral Winter hath no love with men ; 
They still prefer the summer gleam of joy, 
Though much we need the chilling, sweeping blast, 
To cleanse the mental atmosphere from filth ; 
Its agues and its fevers parry off. 
And all pestiferous vices disinfect. 

Come, then, thou spirit-rectifier! come! 
Erect thy standard high in our domain ! 
Thy banners wave o'er all the people far, 
And with some wholesome purge remove our dross. 




158 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 



CHAPTER II. 

England's Example to the Nations — Her Mediations and Pro- 
tections—Of Conscience, Virtue, Religion, National Instability- 
Hypocrisy ; its prevalence — Human Principle — The Prosperous 
Man. 

Old England now hath vauntingly become, 
Through the benignity of Providence, 
A sample to the nations, pious, firm, 
And noble in her deeds, parading truth 
As the whole purpose of her entity, 
From whence, if but one member seems to stir 
Contrary to her rules of liberty, 
The universal reprobating voice 
Calls the erratic wand'rer to account, 
And glues the whole, the coward and the brave, 
The peasant and the knight, in compact close, 
Like an invulnerable phalanx, strong 
To guard determin'd all her ancient claims ; 
To breathe expansive charity abroad, 
That, like celestial dew, cheers into bloom 
The native virtue of the human soul. 
And, like a good old dame, Britannia whips, 
When kindness fails, to turn her children right ; 
She sends her Light to nations far remote, 
To lure the darken'd heathen from his fate ; 
Her mediations, with decisive hands, 
She gives contending nations for their good ; 
With energetic virtue quells the wars, 
And grows a goddess over mighty realms — 
A nurse to all the lovely hopes of man. 

Yet much of this is surface piety — 
A fashionable parody on truth — 
A hollow reed, with very slender root, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 159 

As its unfruitfulness too clearly proves. 

We, like the ancient Israelites, reflect 

But partially the bliss that Heav'n bestows, 

And interweave therewith our subtle arts, 

Whose frail integrity but ill endure 

The giddy pinnacles of vain success, 

Or stern reverse of our peculiar schemes. 

Unthank'd, Britannia's bold usurping hand 
Oft falls unpleasing to the stubborn throng, 
That grows unconscious of the gen'ral weal, 
Through anxious yearning after joys unborn, 
Yet unattain'd and unattainable, 
Save in th' anticipations of desire. 

Then, daily driven by oppressive pow'rs, 
By disappointed hopes and interests foil'd, 
The multitudes degenerate in grace ; 
By their perversions mar the cream of life, 
And change their loves to jealousy and war. 
Integrity dissimulation courts ; 
Men's honour to hypocrisy is turn'd, 
And the whole country on contention's fires 
Finds that her bliss as in a cauldron boils ; 
All ebullition, jarring tumult, fume, 
Dissolving soft the sinews of our strength ; 
While the old hag of Discord daily chants 
Her machinations o'er the stirring mass, 
Intent to prosper turpitude and vice, 
And charm with venom all the good and brave 
Who dare to thwart the errors of the day. 

A nice, accommodating, easy thing 
Has, now-a-days, the popular conscience grown ; 
She's like an India-rubber slipper, made 
To stretch, to suit the size of youthful feet, 
And alter daily with their form and compass. 
Hence this good mistress of our moral deeds 
Can serve all wishes, thoughts, conveniences, 
And ways. The pivot of her balances 
She shifts to poise her beam, that either scale. 



160 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Of sin or grace, may seem of proper weight. 

Yet by this guardian we are taught to live, 

And form our being and morality ; 

The ways and doctrines of our varied life 

By her are governed. Like the new steeFd knife 

The youthful mind is keen and free of edge — 

The conscience clear and sensative ; but soon, 

With crosses, cares, and probes, and feelings maim'd., 

Sensation almost dies of callous wounds ; 

Or, like some torpid thing, is void, and fails 

To tell of coming evils ; or, at most, 

Is feeble in her warnings, or escapes. 

Conscience has more new phases than the Moon, 
According to the educated scheme, 
Or will or likes, or dislikes of the man. 
Some measure morals tight by inch or foot ;. 
Some, not so narrow, stretch to yards or ells ; 
While some rush forth in conscientious leagues. 
Hence is our sicken'd virtue wond'rous weak — 
Scarce able to crawl on ; oft wanting pills 
From holy doctors, or the boluses 
That senates, judges, or the lawyers make, 
To cleanse her vicious habits, purge her filth, 
And keep her in restraint. Obtuse and false 
In all perceptions ; void and lifeless cold 
In all her energies, she scarce exists ; 
Or, living, seems to only breathe of death ! 

Ye trust to Virtue ! Heaven save you, then f . 
For sure is this a frail commodity 
As ever stood the market ! * * * 

'Tis wonderful to see good, virtuous folks, 
Of gay attire, all lovely, trim, and neat ; 
So honest in their doctrine, you might think 
They could not be of this world, or be made 
Of dust, like other men ; or e'en possess, 
Or feel, or know, in body or in mind, 
One particle of what the wicked do ; 
Whilst inwardly these fine angelic saints 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES, 161 

Are oft most nauseous, till they even stink 
In rottenness of vice and villany ! 

Too oft Religion falls the sport of times — 
A catching-penny sort of sneaking game, 
That answers very well in wintry storms, 
And steril portions of our chequer'd path 
Through clouded life, the moral frost and snow ; 
But does not suit in spring or summer days, 
When worldly prospects charm the sickly eye. 
She has been used as lucre and a trade ! 
Shame ! shame on such abuse of heaVnly light ! 

No wonder that our happiness is frail, 
And evil has for ev'ry day some care, 
Some toil, some unexpected pending war, 
When we had dream'd ourselves the most secure. 

Then view those faults, nor fear to cleanse the wound s, 
That healing salve may work a timely cure ! 
He were a false physician who would spare 
Till the disease consum'd our vitals up, 
Ev'n in the bosom of pretended health. 

Hypocrisy, with double-featur'd face, 
Has grown to be a gen'ral ruling crime. 
This all-pervading passion of the times 
Sets up herself, with impudence aud smiles, 
In ev'ry nook and ev'ry public path. 
Our planet's fill'd with practis'd hypocrites, 
Who spin about one flimsy webs of praise — 
Of adulation, stuff 'd with pious incense 
Of precious savour, such as makes us think 
We must be gods, in spite of better sense. 
With sanctified pretensions they will coax 
And gain you over to their wishes ! Ah ! 
But when they've once encompass'd ye, how chang'd ! 
How they'll thumbscrew and pinch you! how they'll lie, 
And swear you out of truth ! how they will mock ! 
Appealing to your conscience, while their own 
Is false as midnight vision, base as dung, 
Brutish to man, and mocking gracious Heaven ! 

p2 



162 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Hypocrisy, the fashionable vice, 
Is recognis'd by most, to palliate 
Or hide their crime and lust, and, in th' esteem 
Of other men, to build their characters, 
When good foundations are not, nor can be, 
Unless their nature all were carved and purg'd, 
Piecemeal, with salt, to cleanse their loathsome souls ! 

This passion can at will, chameleon-like, 
Adapt its aspects to the dyes and hues 
Of all surrounding pleasures, profits, schemes, 
And good things to be wish'd for ; mirror vice, 
It takes the semblance, instantaneously, 
Of all approaching objects, 'specially those 
Who are for victims mark'd ; with duplex aim 
It tries to cheat th' omniscient eye of G-od ; 
And if there be a crime whose pardon hath 
A more reluctant passage than the rest 
It surely must be this, the crime of crimes ! 
This daring, this most persevering crime ! 

And yet, before our youth set out for life, 
They must be taught the lessons of this vice ; 
They must give up their native probity, 
And take dissimulation in exchange ! 
No odds how vile our nature may be thought, 
'Tis not enough defil'd for these our days. 
Nature works best where least she is controll'd 
By common motives of society ; 
For yet there's some stern principle in man, 
Innate and undismay'd by earthly rage, 
That climbs the mounts of vice and ills of time ; 
That fords the seas of strife, smiles at the rack, 
Disdains all pow'rs of torment, scorns at death : 
That curbs the wickedness of wilful men, 
And tunes to heav'nly harmony and truth. 
By this the feeble wise maintain their stand 
Against the might of proud and wayward fools. 
But this the youth to the dissembling vice 
Must yield, and be a votary of lies ! 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 1G3 

For the unrighteous prosperous man connives ; 

He reckons up his cash, and learns his sons 

To be expert in all commercial rules ; 

And, now and then, a lesson interlards 

With bits of caution, prudence, and the like. 

The oldest is his heir, so overgrown 

And heady, none must dare offend his will ; 

The rest are lawyers, doctors, merchantmen. 

Or whatsoe'r they choose ; except by chance 

*Some one has smaller wit and lesser sense — 

A greater simpleton than all the rest — 

Who makes no choice to fix his future lot ; 

His friends then interpose, and teach him years 

Of dactyl, spondee, and iambic verse, 

Prom Greek and Latin classics, till he's grown 

Both old and large enough to be a Priest ; 

Then left at last to trim his native sense, 

To suit his pulpit, he must preach a creed 

To make himself seem virtuous and good, 

And fill his gown with credit and renown. 

Thus is it that some wolves and hornets rise, 

To sting and worry down the Church with schism ; 

To make her scornful in the eyes of men, 

And fill the righteous faithful souls with wo. 

Yet praised be the fact, that some are brought 

Within the charm of vital truth at last, 

Although it should be by a crooked path. 

But, oh ! the guardian angels must, I ween, 
Lonely shed bloody tears, that lust of wealth 

* The author has had no little struggle of mind as to whether or not he 
should expunge this passage, lest it should seem a gratuitous insult to 
clergymen in general ; hut the reader will see that it applies only to 
those who are trained hy ambitious parents for a profession, in favour of 
which they have shown no prepossession, being, both morally and intel- 
lectually, the very antipodes of what we have a right to expect from a 
spiritual teacher. That there are sufficient of these cases to justify the 
above stricture will scarcely be doubted ; and, so long as there are such, 
how can we wonder at the prevalence of schism, tractarianism, hypocrisy, 
formality, and all their concomitant vices which distract the church. 



164 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Should sway religion's sceptre ! Wonder not 
That good celestial virtues thrive but ill ; 
That modern saints are frail, their graces thin, 
And saintly England cankers at her core ! 



SONG. 



Ye sons of England's beauty 
Preserve your nation's youth 

In friendship, trade, and duty, 
Combin'd with sacred truth. 

The man of double dealing 
Shall find his scheming vain ; 

Shall lose all honest feeling, 
Amongst his vices slain. 

Clothe not the thorn with roses, 
Nor poison mix in wine ; 

Do what your mind disposes, 
When taught by truth divine. 

Fill not the couch with hornets ; 

Nor vipers hide in pillows ; 
Nor make true love to mourn its 

Untimely wreath of willows. 

Infuse no gall in honey ; 

Nor act by false pretence ; 
Rob not the man of money 

Who is devoid of sense. 

Let not the good man languish, 
Who is to bliss inclin'd ; 

Nor kill with double anguish 
The wretch of feeling mind. 

Hypocrisy is hateful, 
And oft a losing game ; 

But honesty is grateful, 
And comes at last to fame. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 165 



CHAPTER m. 

The Magna Charta— National Impudence; Insolent Pride— Of 
Decency, Indecency, and Folly — Of Pride ; Humble Merit ; Hu- 
mility — Sacrifice of Pride. 

The famous " Charta," wrung at Runnymede, 
From th' feeble hands of gentle Lord King John — 
The charter of our freedom — well hath chang'd 
The scope and habits of the English race ; 
Hath from th' old tree its canker'd branches prun'd, 
And fed new scions, vig'rous, firm, and rough : 
Its pristine roots, struck deeper, draw new life 
Prom earth before deem'd barren. * * 

Our civil liberty hath made us bold 
And impudent as any pack of dogs, 
To grin, or growl, or gnash our teeth at will. 
The high and low the like infection share. 
Some as the good old Talbot, or the mastiff, 
Famous, and noble in majestic gait, 
Will scarcely bite or bark ; as bloodhounds, some 
Scent certainly their game ; some, bulldog fierce, 
Take victims by the throat ; and snappish curs 
And windy terriers for ever tease. 

Such are the features which compose our tribes ; 
Our great compassionate the small, and bear 
With wond'rous patience all their petty strife. 
But let a great one dare provoke their blood, 
I'll answer to't, they give him cause to rue ; 
And e'en the little ones endure but ill 
The great dog's tooth ; but, joining in a band, 
By numbers make their might, and slay their foe ! 

It were not wrong to tend our nation's honour, 
And hold at bay invading bands of wolves ; 



166 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

But the conceited, self-created umpire, 

Who rears his head beyond all sense, and barks 

Incessantly his saucy folly out 

On his forbearing, unoffending mates, 

Too often shows our national insolence, 

Basely uncivil, ignorant, and void. 

With ostentatious mien, the empty man 
Stands unabash'd, and spouts his genius forth ; 
Boasts of his wit, his wisdom, and his birth ; 
Presumes to be a ruler, sets him up 
Above the sphere which nature had ordain'd ; 
He swaggers much with heavy bets of cash ; 
Can pay, he says, no matter, right or wrong ; 
He must be spokesman chief, at taverns all ; 
Must ride the first horse always, and the best. 
If he runs o'er a man and smash his brains, 
No odds, he must push on — he cannot halt ; 
If once he tarries, he belies his birth, 
Tarnishes his hobby, cuts his fated pride, 
And sinks in his wild dreams, his courage fails ; 
Till down he falls, by his huge weight oppress'd. 
He can't endure the low'ring impulses ; 
He cannot live, save to exult and boast — 
To stamp upon his equals, rail his friends, 
And spit his froth on his superiors. 

Yet oft the scorner meets some small rebuke 
From some plain, humble man, so smartly shot, 
In such effective cartridge — so well aim'd 
At some unwatch'd and vulnerable part, 
That the Goliath staggers, and has done. 
Poor wretch ! his bellows ruptur'd once, he's dumb i 
He's mute as any fish, and quite undone ; 
Or makes a sally foolish and confus'd, 
To cover his retreat : but he must fall, 
And shame must be the crown of the great vaunter i 
Still grant him but a moment's rallying ! 
Pon't pounce too heavy on him ! give him room ! 
His native arrogance is yet alive, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 167 

And all the shame which seem'd to do him o'er 
He boldly shuffles off, and walks him forth, 
Nor blinks nor blushes, but turns up a face 
As hard as sin, on which no shame could live ! 

Now this is vulgar Anglo-pride — a vice 
So bold and rough, as scarce to be endur'd ; 
That unrestrain'd, runs wild as mountain furze, 
And chokes all lovely nature where it reigns ; 
As base as hedge-row briars that hang the lambs ; 
Compos'd of such materials as amaze 
Th' anatomist. Pride ! lofty pride ! the child 
Of ign'rance, pulls its patrons to the dust ! 

God save the shallow proud from folly's curse, 
And God save me from all the curse of pride — 
That shallow pride which ignorance begets. 

Let all my lot for poverty be cast, 
To live unknown to all they deem as great ; 
Let me be fool esteem'd ; but give me sense — 
One spark of wisdom ; give me common sense — ■ 
That best of sense, and from the pride of fools 
Great God deliver me, and all my train ! 

To verily be a fool is worse than death ; 
To know not good from ill, or right or wrong ; 
To have no plain discretion ; to be void ; 
To have no stable law or rule of life ; 
To act by impulse, rail at sober counsel ; 
To set one's foot on all propriety ; 
To scorn the common ties of human rights ; 
To be more callous than a common beast, 
And to good virtue run antipodes ! 
This sure must be a curse from which the wise 
Will pray deliverance with all his breath. 

Such is the pride of insult ; then, in dress, 
The gaudy trappings prove the empty soul. 
Beneath the cloak of decency oft lurks 
This foul bird, pride, that builds her dirty nest 
In hearts of men's affections, rearing young 



168 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

That tear all goodness from society. 

They preach of decency as of a God : 

Good decency may dwell in corduroy 

Or fustian dress, from rags and vermin free, 

Made with becoming modesty to hide 

The limbs whereto we pin our thoughts of shame. 

Cloth, superfine in texture ; shaded silks ; 

Satins and velvets ; ribbons beauteous dyed, 

And such gay harness of the lofty proud, 

Suit well the noble wealthy ; should be worn 

By men of heavy cash, whose duty is 

To patronise our nation's wealth and strength, 

Th' ingenious artist's work of native skilL 

But for a man, yea, eVn a nobleman, 

Like a conceited peacock strutting round, 

And spreading forth his beauteous shining coat, 

To think his soul, or flesh, or brain more good, 

Because of radiant plumage, is a farce 

Whereat true decency scarce dares to look. 

And how much more calamitous and mean 
The vulgar throng who ape the wealthy great 
In manners and pretensions ; who devise 
All human schemes to vie in outward show, 
And overshine meridian beauty ; 
Who gild and varnish habitations grand ; 
Distort their nat'ral grace ; attempt new shapes, 
And stuff their bodies with unsightly pads, 
To make their decency indecent shame. 
They chmb the hills of glory, scale the mount, 
To seize the plumes of greatness — shine as lords, 
Or dukes, or kings ; or mimic mighty dames. 

Shame on the vile, o'erbearing multitudes, 
Whose sin, imperious pride, is patron vice 
To envy, malice, strife, presumption, hate, 
Hypocrisy, and other progeny ! 
Shame on the hollow, tow'ring, hemlock herd, 
That lift their heads on high to smother down 
More humble, fairer, nat'ral beauteous bloom ! 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 369 

Then muscular pride lifts up its dragon head 
With beastly violence ; breaks down, by force, 
All civil rules, and flings around it fierce 
Tormentiug tumult. Pride of honour, too, 
Becomes a snare to thousands, who for praise, 
For empty names, and popular applause ; 
Who for a moment's gentle wafting breeze, 
Along the seeming glassy stream of glory, 
Will sell their birthright, sacrifice their wealth, 
And sink their peace to deep oblivion. 
Pride's like the smaller beer, that furious foams, 
While good strong ale within the cask is still. 
Or, like the empty cask, it always sounds 
With greater noise than one that's better fill'd. 

But see the worthy rich of humble mood, 
Whose soul is knit to charity and love ; 
Whose nature will submit, in kindly peace, 
To honour truth : this is the man whose life, 
As salt of bliss and brine of moral joy, 
Purges our putrid manners by his grace ; 
He's the preserver of society 
From fulsome deeds and revelry of crime ; 
He's pivot to meek virtue's balances ; 
He keeps our country's morals yet alive ; 
Is counter-irritant to vice and lust, 
And long he reigns in mem'ries of the good. 
In such an one the sons of men feel bless' d, 
And from him flows the balm of earthly joy. 

If it should please the Ruler of the world 
To people earth with meek humility, 
Peace would prevail, and, like a mighty sea, 
In glory spread, and the millennium come. 

Of meek and lovely spirits were the saints, 
Now perfected in heaven, and angels good, 
Who from eternity maintain' d their stand 
Against perfidious pride, with filial love, 
And sweet subordination to their God ; 
While their ambitious mates, aspiring high, 



170 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Stretch'd forth beyond themselves to grasp domain 

Held by th' Omnipotent, in sad reverse, 

Were spurn'd from their primeval bliss, and damn'd, 

So, with their feeble imitators, men ; 

Each in his way pursues a boon or curse. 

Truth is the same in heav'n, or earth, or hell ; 

And meek humility observes her rules, 

While the ambitious proud are her tormentors. 

Modest humility, with native roots 
Deep growing through the soul, is scarce to find 
With us ; for she is like exotic plants, 
Which in our frigid island sickly grow : 
Our atmosphere, too sharp for her gauze leaves, 
Shrivels her buds, her virgin beauty blasts, 
And turns her blanchen white to carious black. 
If plac'd in shelter, too, some biting air 
Invades her tender pores, and turns her sick, 
Till sallow jaundice slays her lily hue ; 
Save lonely now and then, and far apart 
This sweet enchantress reigns, in nature's walks, 
Unconscious of her beauty, blooming fair, 
Protected by supernal pow'rs, to prove 
The loves and follies of aspiring men ! 

Then shall fair, kind humility in vain 
Spread forth her wooing virtue ? Shall she cry 
Her blessings round to scorning multitudes ? 
Shall lofty pride tread down this meek-air'd saint, 
And mix her ashes with the dusty earth 
In an untimely grave % Shall beauty live 
And die unknown to beauty-seeking eyes ? 
Shall brutish hands her goddess charms despoil ? 
Or tear down courteous virtue by assault ? 
Nay, never let her rise in judgment up, 
To curse our vices with a deeper hell ! 

Now, let this peering pride at once be slain ! 
Up to the altar draw the sacrifice — 
The cursed, the offensive sacrifice — 
And let the spotless hands of naked truth, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 371 

Before the eyes of all the virtues, slay 
This spoiler ; set the flames of honest love 
To kindle on the carcass ; when consum'd, 
Its ashes give to all th' unruly winds ! 

Thus let the lust of hateful pride expire, 
And the triumphant virtues join and sing 
A cheerful hallelujah ! Thus extinct 
This murd'rous human tyrant ; men, set free, 
Shall join the chorus of emancipation, 
And universal nature must rejoice. 



SONG. 



O, Britain ! the land of my birth ! 

An Island the dearest to me ; 
How great is thy name in the earth, 
Thou garden- like speck on the sea ! 
Great nations oft wonder to hear 

The enterprise thou wilt perform ; 
They envy thy fame, as they fear 
The force of thy art and thy storm ! 

Chorus. — Thus fam'd and thus mighty. 
In deeds that are weighty 
The honest and just, 
Along with me, must 
Still love my old Britain I 

O, Albion ! of ancient so wild, 

Uncultur'd, half-savage, scarce known ; 
Invaded, betray'd, and beguil'd 

By bloodhounds of cruel renown ! 
Now freed from the scourge and the yoke 

Of those who have held thee in thrall, 
Thy Maker thy bondage hath broke ; 

Then dedicate to Him thy all. 

Chorus. — Thus fam'd, &c. 
O, England ! a handful of land, 

How wilt thou still head the large globe. 
And first of the nations yet stand, 

Array'd in thy fame-woven robe ? 
Ask wisdom to lend thee her light, 

To guide thee from error's foul bane ; 
And trust to thy God for thy might, 

Then shalt thou be prosp'rous and reign I 
Chorus. — Thus fam'd, &c. 



MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 



CHAPTER IV. 

Natural Rudeness— English Cruelty— The Trading Spirit— All 
Vice cruel— Various operations of Cruelty which intimidate Charity 
—Cruelty to the Unfortunate and the Young— Cruelty resulting 
from the Spirit of the Times— A few of Brotherly Affection. , 

Where nature reigns, unchang'd, in distant climes, 
And in her native rudeness rears her head, 
Shaggy and wild — not shaven, comb'd, or brush'd ; 
With fireball eyes and voice terrific, shrill ; 
Where our philosophers and priests as yet 
Have got no hold ; where morals, laws, and creeds, 
In image of their ancient maker's will, 
Remain unalter'd by the flight of years ; 
The natives live in manners strange to us, 
And therefore we esteem them barbarous. 
The cannibal we deem a cruel hound — 
A fierce devourer of his fallen foe ; 
Yet he is not more fell, I should conceive, 
Than cruel passions of our Englishmen, 
Who " faithfully" and " most respectfully," 
According to the rules of friendship, kill 
Their myriad friends, by years of ling'ring death, 
In systems of continuous martyrdom. 

Conflicting commerce ruins kindest hearts ; 
And rival interests, of a thousand sorts, 
Contaminate compassionate regards ; 
Make each to strive and overrun his mate, 
And snatch the treasures of his bosom friends, 
Till, oft offended, disappointed love 
Becomes an abstract theme — a thing of name 
Whose real substance scarce can now exist. 
Not even in the blood of nearest kin. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 173 

If you would make your very brethren foes 
Get at their shops some twenty shillings' worth 
Of petty goods, and let your credit run 
Some extra months, and you will be at war ; 
Your unity of purpose, soul and blood, 
Will have departed, like the smoke in air ; 
Or snow that falls upon the greedy sea. 
Then pay the man his pound, and all is right ! 
And he will wheedle round to keep your trade, 
Until your next default shall seal your curse ; 
His own is his, and he must have, at once, 
His own. It will not do for him to lose 
Int'rest or principal, or eVn to doubt 
About your solvency, so long as he 
On you can make demands ; if he be clear, 
No matter for the woes you feel or dread ; 
No matter if the circumstance you're in 
Press hard upon you ; if a few more weeks 
Would clear you up ; no matter, you must fall ; 
His love, in master cruelty, expires, 
And you must take the seas of certain strife, 
To be extirpated of all your hopes ; 
Thus nature's love reverts to selfish lust, 
And buries bliss in cold and treach'rous forms. 

Dare not t' endure the cunning, cruel craft, 
And certain insolence of creditors : 
Nay, rather chance the charity of dogs ; 
For these, at worst, no more than tear your flesh 
While those will sue away your cash and goods, 
Incarcerate your body, till 't becomes 
A walking skeleton of useless bones : 
And then they fortify their consciences, 
And strengthen up their deeds in men's esteem. 
By building tow'rs of lies against your name. 
The cruelty of man to man exceeds 
The cruelty of beasts. Men wound and snare 
The spirit of one's youthful probity ; 
Hurl slander on the nervous, honest soul ; 
Distract the trembling penitent with fear ; 

q 2 



^ 



174 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Browbeat him out of truth, and snap, in scorn, 

The fingers which, by right, should bring him peace. 

They hound keen-scented lawyers on your track, 

Who fawn about you with disguis'd intents — 

With smooth pretence of fair regard and joy. 

If you your credit can maintain, and pay 

Their hotbed-swollen-bills, they'll please you well, 

Or feed or pinch, as seems most meet awhile ; 

With bowels so elastic, they can suit, 

By stretching or contracting, viper-like, 

The size of meals your substance may afford. 

Once they surpris'd me in the mire, and kick'd 
In turns my head ; by moral chloroform 
They check'd my breath. I thought that all was o'er 
They took me unawares ; I scarce could think, 
But stood aghast in wonder at their spleen, 
Until reflection reassum'd her throne ; 
And then, anon, with growing pride I scorn'd 
The glutton crew, and with a high disdain, 
Brooking contempt, I heeded not their hate. 

How many honest men are doom'd as rogues, 
Pull'd down from their fair pinnacle of hope, 
And sacrificed to selfishness and guile ? 
How many never tasted nature's joy, 
But liv'd in wo, and died with broken souls, 
I leave the awful judgment day to prove ! 
And all ye traitors of humanity ! 
Ye rough barbarians with a civil name, 
Who tear away the vital bliss of man, 
Remember ! you must prove your balance-sheet, 
And answer to th' accouut of life and death ! 

'Tis nigh enough to drive a mortal mad, 
To be tormented daily, jarr'd and foil'd, 
By all the hags and demon-sons of lust ; 
To have one's goodness riven out of one, 
As the vile hound tears out his victim's entrails ; 
To be deceiv'd by lovers, friends, and kin, 
On whom our souls in confidence repos'd ; 



TEMrERAMEJJT OF THE TIMES. 175 

To be demoraliz'd, and taught to swear 
Against the dictates of one's better sense ; 
To have imputed to one horrid deeds, 
And reasons, which one never had conceit d ; 
And to be worried for th' accuser's fault ! 

We're born to trial, trouble, torment, pain ; 
To contradiction, insult, strife, and shame ; 
To be rid over roughshod by the world ; 
Kiclc'd at and spurn'd ; oft to be robb'd by friends ; 
Betray 5 d, cast forth from one's own hallow'd seat ; 
Be left to perish in distress, and scorn'd 
By those who plunder'd us of all our wealth ! 

All vicious thoughts of men work cruelty ; — 
Not cruelty that maims the flesh alone ; 
For this is but one item in th' account — 
But one ingredient in the murderer's cup — 
The glaringly obseiVd, the manifest, 
And that aloue which strikes the vulgar mind 
As cruelty : the severing of veins 
Or arteries till, with one's blood, shall our 
Poor prison'd principle of life escape ; 
Or, carving living tendons from one's bones, 
As handy cooks slice "cutlets," "steaks," or "chops," 
Are deeds forbid by law, and taught to be 
Oppos'd to modern manners of this realm ; 
Else some would stalk about with gory hands 
Each month, and week, and day along the year. 
Yet, spite of sage restrictions, all attempts 
To make the conduct contrast with the will 
Are vain as gossamers to tether bulls. 
In spite of futile rules, the knife, the ball, 
The deadly draught or bludgeon do their work ; 
Or more refin'd, more hypocritic ways, 
This fell barbarian cruelty assumes. 
This brazen-fac'd, hard-hearted dame dares not 
To always spill her destin'd victim's blood ; 
But well suiTounds him in her wily snares, 
And strikes his feeling soul with black despair ; 



176 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Eradicates his deepest roots of joy ; 
Hews down the stem of all his earthly wealth ; 
Slays his affections ; poisons all his love ; 
Blasts, with a thousand-viper'd tongue, his fame : 
Scourges humanity from out his breast ; 
Bribes all his friends to bitter enemies, 
And heaps upon him cares, brutality, 
Hypocrisy, contempt, and hate, and pride ! 

The godlike principle of human love 
Is taught to tremble — taught to live in fear. 
The virtuous man who feels another's wo, 
And gives compassion to the slightest touch ; 
Who kindly would forego some share of bliss, 
To ease another's lot, must be aggriev'd ; 
Must feel his soul dissolve, like ice, beneath 
The force of his warm-hearted love, and run 
Like water in his bowels, till, ingulf 'd 
In the impetuous stream of mortal strife, 
He finds his efforts vain, and quietly yields 
To fall and languish, sicken, pine, and die, 
Through disappointment of his will to men. 

Most cruelly th' unfortunate are used 
By those esteem'd their friends ; and oft the young- 
Are ruin'd e'er they dream that foes exist — 
Before hypocrisy hath taught the mind 
To act duplicity, or play deceit ; 
Before our natural caution well hath learn'd 
To see through mountains which is white or black ; 
Before we're fortified with cunning art 
Sufficient to rebuff designing knaves ; 
Before we well can walk, we're doom'd to fall, 
Through the oppression of illiberal minds, 
And great conflicting interests of our day. 

Yet be not cruel or illiberal, 
Nor harshly blame the principles of men ; 
Self-preservation forces some astray 
From what in them would else be virtuous. 
Whatever good in life I would pursue 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES^ 177 

With vigour, somewhat which I gain must prove 
A loss to those who else would get the prize ; 
And both our poverty, like famish'd wolves, 
Must have at least a bone, or we must die. 
So 'tis not always cruel will that sways 
The iron-looking sceptre over men : 
Necessity compels the gentle mind ; 
A moral force constrains unwilling love, 
And self-existence calls the kindest man 
To take war weapons up, and fiercely slay, 
Or foes, or friends, or lovers, who by chance, 
Impell'd by need, for his last morsel gape 
With gnashing, hungry teeth. 0, cruel fates ! 
0, stern compulsive wo, engrafted strong 
On the old root, too firm for human might, 
Or aught of earthly wit, t' exterminate, 
Ev'n man's degeneracy ! the fruitful source 
Of evils which we evermore, endure ! 
Compel us not to slay our brother man ! 
Drive not compassion absolutely mad ! 
Nor industry pervert to cruelty 2 

Ye few of brotherly affection, live 
In all the glory of your righteous wills ! 
Still rise superior to the threats of vice, 
To bless and turn the hearts of those who stray, 
Through adverse fates, from sweet humanity ! 
Fan ye the sparks of virtue in their souls, 
That thro' the blessing breath of heav'n shall blaze, 
Till bloody deeds and cruel wills shall form 
A pyre where mortal ills shall all consume 
To ashes, and the phoenix thence arise 
Of universal love to mortal man. 

If evil comes, 'tis well to think and judge — 
To ponder and decide, with judgment act, 
According to your share of wisdom given : 
Yet never to be anxious, fill'd with fear — 
Cast down with dark forebodings or despair ; 
Never allow the demons to prevail, 



MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Or harbour fearful thoughts within your soul : 

These will distort your nature, spoil your peace, 

Fill you with cankerworms that eat the core 

Of all you deem as good in your existence. 

Then spurn them hence, nor be your own tormentor ! 

Be your own friend, at least, when foes increase ! 

Nor let them cruelly despond your heart 

To poison its own blood. Be ever strong ; 

Be proof against all self-afflicting woes — 

The ills which others make you are enough. 



SONG. 

Keep your courage ! keep your courage ! 

Though the world be frowning on ye ; 
Keep your courage ! keep your courage ! 

Though your friends and kindred shun ye ! 

Keep your courage, &c. 
Though the dark'ning sky should low'r ; 

Though the quaking earth should tremble ; 
Though ye, void of ev'ry pow'r, 

Must through bleakest deserts ramble, 

Keep your courage, &c. 
Though disease and want should greet you, 

Marring all your fruit and treasure ; 
Though vexatious strife should cheat you 

Out of all your youthful pleasure, 

Keep your courage, &c. 
"When the nations fond of warring 

Threaten, fume, and look outrageous, 
Heed ye not their foolish jarring — 

Court the truth and be courageous ; 

Keep your courage, &c. 
Keep your courage when you're failing ; 

Struggle onward what you can ; 
Though you feel each mortal ailing, 

Courage aids the sinking man ! 

Keep your courage, &c. 

Though all evils were impending, 

Good men should not die despairing ; 

Heav'nly pow'rs, the truth befriending, 
Will observe their toil and caring : 

Keep your courage, &c. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. ] J9 



CHAPTER V. 

Of Success— Envy ; her works, nature, and charactar ; opposed 
to Peace and Harmony — Her Votaries ; of a sad nature ; an imitator 
— None envy the ills of the Poor, but their virtues — Envy illiberal — 
Of Love— The Unfeeling Man— The Expansive Mind— The Feeling 
Soul hath antidotes for Envy. 

If to success, through strength and care, ye rise, 
To float awhile upon the tossing sea 
Of modern speculation, trade, and pride, 
And 'scape the quagmires, pits, and treach'rous rocks 
Of hypocritie friends and cruel foes. 
If youthful vigour push you swiftly on, 
And prosperous virtue marks your fleet advance, 
Then Envy sneaks about, to watch some slip ; 
Sneers at your good, or smiles to see you fall ; 
Snatches up all the milestones on the road, 
And hurls them slily at you. Envy hates 
To see you live in comfort, peace, and joy ; 
And covets all whate'er of good you have. 
She calls hypocrisy and cruelty 
To lend their aid, but is to mean for pride. 
She would defile or rob you of your love, 
Because her vileness robs her of her own ; 
As none would dare affection's bliss to yield 
Into her selfish grasp : as few would choose 
To live for long within her narrow cell. 
If you be gay, she wishes for your dress, 
And, to enjoy a set of gaudy robes, 
Would scarce regret to strip and set you forth 
Through wilderness and desert, storms and thorns, 
To perish in unpitied nudity ! 

If you be rich, she prays to find your cash, 
That then her lazy bones may lie at ease 



180 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Upon the couch of stolen luxury — 
May revel in debauch at your expense, 
Or skip at once to her elysium ! 

Amongst the mental vices, Envy is 
The basest of the train : she is so mean, 
No noble thought can find abode with her ; 
No votary or counsel will presume 
To plead her cause, or set her virtues forth. 
She is so vulgar, little, and despis'd, 
That no pretext can shield her from contempt. 
She is in open life so much accurs'd, 
That none in public take her by the hand. 
She is a private demon ; lonely vice ; 
Hermaphrodite, that gendereth to herself ; 
For certain she can have no equal mate, 
Save Vanity may be her paramour ; 
Or cloak'd Hypocrisy her secret friend, 
That in the dark steps forth to aid her plots ; 
And Cruelty and Malice are her guests, 
When some great purpose is to be attain' d. 

When this barbarian vampire fails to gain 
The good she covets, she recurs to hate, 
To malice and revenge : she'll foil thy skill 
By counterworks ; build o'er thy fav'rite path 
Some wall to stay thy progress ; dig some pit ; 
Or with some ignis-fatuus lantern lead 
Thy steps, when dark, to some outlandish bog. 
Her heart, like iron oxydized to naught 
But scaly rottenness, will fret itself 
With mean abhorrence. Her ill-bred intent 
Will rake the universe to find some fate, 
Some magic spell, or some malignant star, 
Whose aspect is to thee of import vile ; 
And for thy crime of being fortunate, 
Or good, or prudent, will, with vengeful wind, 
Sweep all that's base upon thee ; or will tear, 
As with a tiger's paw, thy virtue's vest, 
And ruin, if she can, thy best designs ! 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 181 

No peace can live with Envy ; she is like 
Fermenting elements that in the womb 
Of a volcano work in silent war, 
Unknown, till full-grown opportunity 
Brings forth her moment for erupting flames ; 
Then devastation, deep and wide, she sends 
Impetuous forth, to deluge mortal joy. 
She drives all unity of purpose from 
Fair Charity's abode, and makes the mind, 
Where she gains entrance, filthiness and sloth ; 
Tears, one by one, the gentle feeling nerves 
That vibrate, like the mellow-sounding harp, 
Through numan bosoms, tun'd in harmony 
To all the godlike virtues left in man. 
Stupidity and baseness well betray 
Old Envy's votaries ; to whom all sense, 
Reason, and duty speak in vain ; to whom 
All goodness is as poison, rankling deep 
In new-torn flesh, unwelcome, hated much ', 
They've granite heart and iron nerve, unlike 
"What men should be as dovils are to God : 
Alone to spoil each noble deed they live. 

Envy ascribes your better deeds to foul 
Perverted reasons ; blacks the purest white. 
And, with a lying tongue, spreads infamy 
To inundate your choicest happiness ! 

Envy is like a petted child, that frets 
About the house, and sweetest morsels craves 
From off the table, parting only with 
The bones or crusts that do not suit his teeth. 
She chooses but your better things of life — 
Your richest lands, your dearest friends — and leaves 
Your worthless trash untouch' d, to be your own. 

She hath no mirth or kindness ; means no good ; 
And, like the wireworm, eats the roots of hope. 
The veriest ape that ever monkey'd us, 
She, with enchantress' fingers, mimics what 



182 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

In vain she covets. Simple, shallow dolts, 

Who ne'er had sense to scan the good man's steps, 

By Envy's mighty transmutating aid 

Can feign to copy and outrival him ; 

Assisted by an envious spleen, they sneer, 

And whip his goodness to the worrying dogs. 

The senators the sov'reign rulers ape — 

In pomp and manners copy kings and queens : 

Great premiers, chief commanders, counsellors, 

And many mighty men, ambitious mad, 

To be a step advanc'd above themselves, 

Live daily in the strife of Envy's toil, 

And pledge their peace and rest for glit*ring state. 

The small ones, envious of these shining stars, 

And dreaming still on bliss of outward show, 

Drag on with heavy loads of poverty, 

Through oceans of contention, toss'd with tides, 

And furious blasting winds, despairing not 

At sickness, pains, or all the mortal ills 

That reckless men inherit, while they push 

To snatch the boon that Envy tempts them to. 

But none there are to envy, none to rob 
The poor man of his sorrows ; none who crave 
His scanty meals — mere scrapings of the teeth ; 
And none who wish to be reduc'd in wealth ; 
To drudge in nakedness and poverty ; 
To live a life of daily pining death, 
Like lank and famish'd wolves, with staring bones. 
Alas, poor Poverty ! poor careworn child ! 
How few thy woes will covet : yet art thou 
Not free from Envy's trammels ; oft she seeks 
What good still clings to thee ! — thy sober'd peace ! 
Thy chasten'd, stern, contented modesty ; 
Thy pious, dutiful, submissive mood : 
These would she tear from off thee — leave thee bare 
Of all that is with virtue's imprint stamp'd. 
Nor high nor low from Envy then are safe ; 
Nor great nor good secure from her desire ! 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 183 

Envy our natural liberality 
Proscribes, and wounds the love of man to man. 
Old Nature first made all with bounteous heart — 
More prone to give than take, to love than hate ; 
Expansive and capacious ; fain to fold 
Within the arms of love the universe, 
And hug unto the teat, of richest milk 
Of Nature's goodness, all the sons of want. 
But Envy, jealous of our growing bliss, 
Invades the genial wish ; unstrings the harp 
Of natural harmony ; our joy denies, 
Turning ijiis garden to a wilderness ; 
And makes us barren, inharmonious, 
Churlish, morose, and foul in all our ways. 

Love is a pleasant thing — the cream of life, 
The salve that heals the sores and wounds of vice, 
And turns a canker'd earth to paradise ; 
To Envy she prescribes a drastic purge, 
To scour her bowels from putrescent vice, 
And make more room for true beneficence. 

The envious wretch, devoid of charity, 
And all the gentler feelings of the soul ; 
Who never feels the pow'rs of sympathy ; 
Who cannot smile, or sigh, or blush, or love, 
And is a foe to emulating spirit ; 
Who hath no kind remembrance of the past ; 
His games of infancy, or youthful mirth ; 
Who hath forgot his schoolboy mates, and holds 
No charming hopes to lead him through the future, 
But quietly lives a single day at once ; 
That, like a fatted hog, consumes his food 
Without one rising spark of gratitude ; 
Who has no fixed principle of life, 
But lives at random, void of standard rule, 
Shall never be my choice, or share my heart. 
He's like a stony post — a nerveless frame, 
That ne'er was meant to be acknowledg'd man ! 



184 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

He whom they term a maniac often proves 
Of higher resolution, force, and wit 
Than his maligners ; simply bears more sail 
Than his frail nut-shell boat can ballast well 
Thro' the tumultuous surge of social life, 
"Whose fierce, unnat'ral heavings toss too much 
For him who follows nature candidly ; 
His large adventurous grasp of thought, too bold 
For some who scarcely know the use of brain, 
Is constantly rebuff 'd, by their distaste 
And selfish schemes of dull fatuity ; 
Till, oft repress' d, constrain' d, and held at bay, 
He rises rampant at his mean tormentors ; 
Rages at their pusillanimity, 
And off at all digressive tangents flies. 
From step to step pursued, and urg'd, and curb'd 
By all distracting vanities, he grows 
Ungovernable, like the plunging steed 
Which cannot please, or bear his cruel groom. 
Thus many men are into madness driv'n, 
And many more besides her threshold halt. 
And yet give me the bold discursive mind, 
That heedeth not the meaner schemes of life, 
But soars above their taint divinely high. 
Such soul, of high delights and ardent love, 
Prescribes the antidotes for Envy. She, 
Like a good gardener, tears the deeper roots 
Of Envy's weeds, which dare to choke the buds 
Of modest flow'ring beauty. She no ill 
To friends or neighbours will design or do. 
She fishes not the little brooks ; nor leaves 
The net or night-line set, to snare the faults 
Of those who swim along the stream of life, 
Like sharks voracious, or poor feeble sprats ; 
Alike she loves them all, alike o'erlooks 
The foibles of the mighty and the weak. 
Ride on, sweet fairy Liberality, 
Till Envy lives no longer, but shall sink 
Unheeded in the nethermost abyss ; 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 185 

Whence angels, men, or devils shall no more 
Resuscitate this miscreant vice. 



SONNET.— TO ENVY. 



At thee, foul-crested Envy, now my blood 

Thrills through my bosom, and in ev'ry vein 
Hangs cold as icicles : and Oh ! I would, 

If I the pow'r possess'd, ne'er meet again 
Thy hated notice ; but, t' escape thy curse, 

Dissolve to ether ! Naught's for thee too vile ! 
Thou liv'st on defamation in extremes ; 

Thine object well to low'r, with deepest guile, 
Thou callest proud, fool, pennyless, and weak ; 

Then, for more certain prey, the same is made 
Great out of measure ; said to plan and do 

All what he never dream'd. 0, sorry jade ! 
How I, with truth, would hunt and crush thee down. 
How I thy with'ring eyes would from their sockets tear, 
But I my rage must curb, and leave thy fate to God. 



SONNET 
In MEMORY of JOHN HOWARD, the PHILANTHROPIST. 

Hail ! philanthropic Howard, glorious name ! 

The pride of England and the boast of fame ! 

The friend of blighted man ; his hope and joy, 

When plagues or chains his other hopes destroy : 

The captive's eyeballs glisten'd with delight 
When thou hadst found his miserable cell ; 

And the disease-consum'd was fill'd with might, 

When thou hadst learn'd where he was doom'd to dwell. 

The isles and continents with wondef saw 

Thy deep devotedness to human wo ; 

Till, love-constrain'd, thy sacrifice was given 

To teach base men the principles of heav'n. 
Oh ! may such spirit of free sympathizing grace 
Descend, as shall the whole of human kind embrace ! 



r 2 



183 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 



CHAPTER VI. 

Olden Kings— Cant and Crafty Morality — The Debauchee ; his 
Portrait ; his Deeds — Modern Vestals — England's Moral Fame— 
The Muse's Patriotism— Effect of Chastity — Cheerfulness— Athenian 
Youth— Value of the Good. 

And now no more, in savage heraldry, 
The kings emblazon on the vulgar eye 
Their revelries of crime ; no more they run 
Riot through all the rules of decency. 
No more with violence they dare to snatch 
The objects of their wish ; their subjects now 
Maintain, with equal might, their wives, their goods, 
Their daughters from the breath pestiferous 
Of regal prostitution ; virtuously 
Victoria reigns, a mother and a queen — 
A sample to the matrons, who would rule 
Their lords with genial, matrimonial love. 
0, may she live a long and blissful reign ! 
No fierce, tyrannic Henry, bold in crime, 
Libidinous, unchaste, incontinent, 
With all his headlong vices, now could screw 
The British mind to his debauchery, 
Or rule the sons of liberty in awe, 
To be the tools and pand'rers for his lusts. 
No Nero might presume, with Romish games, 
Or cruelty, or insolence, or war 
To cross the bias of our English creed. 

Yet great is the deception of our forms ; 
"We're preach'd a Christian nation, held as saints, 
And deified as men immaculate ; 
Our modes of youthful training stink of cant 
And false pretensions ; we are daily taught 
To put us in one scale, and make the world, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 187 

With all her various nations, tribes, and tongues, 
Outmatch'd to balance us in moral worth. 
"We hold ourselves so pure in heart and life — 
So free from open vice, that we subscribe 
Our thousands yearly, that we may reclaim 
The heathen from their castes, their rites, their lusts, 
And all barbarian ways ; and oft with swords 
And guns we force them to our national faith ! 

Yet much of our pretending purity 
Is sheer deception — poison in a cup 
Of outward shining, beauteous, silver hue. 
This virtue oft is but insatiate pride ; 
As foul as death within — like gods without ; 
Or stinking sepulchres with whited walls ! 

Our morals have assum'd a cunning knack ; 
When sham'd with truth, they take a secret path. 
To speak of virtue absolute is farce : 
There may be fair degrees, but ask no more ; 
And those degrees are scarce perceptible 
To mortal vision ; craft and double art 
Oft borrow virtue's pencil, rivalling 
In painting moral pictures, such as cheat 
The inexperienc'd eye, and pass them off 
As holy creatures, pure and free from sin. 
The unsuspected moralist is oft 
As much incontinent as one who takes 
The public by the beard, save in the style 
And number of her follies : often one, 
Or two, or three, perchance, her secrets gain, 
And share what surplus virtue she can spare. 
Or on some lecherous dotard she bestows 
Her joys and ministry to feebled lust ; 
Yet you would be impertinent to say 
That vice belong' d to such a pious dame ! 
Some modest, constant, loving, faithful mates, 
Whose consorts are not ev'rything that's good, 
Nor always there, have charity to give ; 
Or feel so much of extra holiness, 



MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

They lend accommodation to their friends ! 
This often makes the kindest-hearted spouse 
Doubt, disbelieve, and use true love amiss ; 
Because that jealousy so well is fed 
By our prevailing tact of cheatery ; 
By modern sly pollution, well refin'd, 
Attenuated like the gossamers, 
Of shining silken grace, that float through fields 
O'er ev'ry inch of ground when summer smiles. 

Then moral folk, who preach of duty much, 
Which none can dare deny, oft turn out rogues 
Of deeper crime than many open knaves ; 
Pursuing, with untiring villany, 
A lawless system of cupidity, 
In crime that might suffice to damn a world ! 
The debauchee, the curser of his race — 
Contaminator of society ; 
A dragon fiend, whose very breath would blast 
As would a poisonous vapour-blight from hell — 
A beauteous region to a wilderness ; 
Whose pestilential vices plague the earth, 
And make the good men insecure to live ; 
Must still inherit ancient tyranny, 
And only fails in might to sink a nation. 
Yet impudence and cash help on the beast 
To stare one out of countenance, and grunt 
Some artful sophistry to cheat the sense. 
Look here, depraved cheater ! I have found 
Thy portrait, painted by a faithful hand ; 
The likeness true, of such a horrid cast 
As makes the feeble artist stand dismay'd 
At this strange picture which from thee he made ; 
Thy cheeks inflated like a bladder, blown 
By long debauch, mistim'd and broken rest, 
And gluttony of food, and wines profuse ! 
Thy yellow skin, which nature would discard, 
Betrays the seeds of infamous disease ; 
Thine eyes, the windows where "blue-devils" dance, 
Enrag'd with alcohol and gorg'd with blood, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 189 

Outvie the fireballs that satanic art 
Could bring from the black arsenal of fiends ; 
Around thee hang the spectre-looking forms 
Of once fair maidens, curs'd by thy deceit ; 
To thee the wailings of the widow's grief, 
And tortures of the orphan children, turn, 
Crying for vengeance, for the blood of souls, 
Led on by thee to infamy and death ! 
Avaunt, thou troubler, or with scorpion whips, 
Pointed with wiry blood-knots, I will drive 
Thy hated soul from whence the good reside, 
Till thou shalt writhe and wriggle like a snake 
That's wounded by the rod of vengeful wrath. 

The base, polluted wretch, who loves to tempt 
The virtuous from their path of rectitude, 
And teach them cunning arts of vice, and lust, 
And fleshly vanity ; who, void of cash, 
Bears up a lofty head of princely looks ; 
Who now, in hunting fields, or racing-course, 
Pushes his wild velocity, with pride 
And boasting hectoring ; then nightly sits 
Around the gambling-table, leaving home 
And his concerns to chance or Providence, 
Is a dire foe to both himself and friends, 
And a destroyer of his whole estate ; 
A desolator of his country's peace ; 
A dreaded neighbour and a fearful plague. 
His mind and flesh, corrupted, fail to serve 
His feeble reason ; lost to self-control, 
On wildfire passions borne, he runs the round 
Of vanities, through nature's wilderness ; 
His flesh consumes, his cash and goods depart, 
And he and his, at last, go desolate, 
The general lot of foul debauchery. 
Once fully dedicated to this course, 
The man no more is man, but demon-brute. 

Yet few, in these fine moral times, dare choose 
To court the public eye with deeds unchaste. 



190 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

The prevalence of hypocritic art, 
Now cultur'd much by universal love, 
Hath chang'd the open intercourse of crime, 
And taught foul immorality to hide 
Amid the dark recesses of the night, 
Or secret ambush, to pursue its bent 
Unseen by censuring eyes of noonday light. 
Not near so much advanc'd, I doubt, are we 
Above the purity of former times ; 
But much, it may be doubted, we are sunk 
Into the gulf of complicated vice, 
Profanity, connivance, and deceit. 

The rings of Gyges now would doubtless find 
A bounteous market, if they could to air 
Unseen dissolve contaminated men ; 
Or hide them to perform their sly debauch. 
Our vestal maids are vastly multiplied, 
And pleasantly accommodating grown, 
Since penance was annull'd ; our Tibers now 
Receive, in yearly tributes, thousandfold 
Putative offspring of the lecherous gods : 
And still our herdsmen's wives oft take to nurse 
Some secret buds of pious dames and lords. 
Yet vh*tuous, chaste, and pure, of Christian fame, 
We vaunt our nation to a wondering world ; 
"While lurking furies, with the blazing torch 
Of strong remorse and gaping infamy, 
Pursue the conscience stain'd with private guilt. 

But cease the burning censure ! push not hard 
The chastisement of secret-working lust ! 
Lest some should doubt our patriotic love, 
Or think the Muse a cynic ! Heaven knows 
How much our heart-strings twine around the name 
Of England and the English ! — how we love, 
And how appreciate the excellence 
Of all our nation's good ; though none should dream 
Her perfect, or narcotics give to lull 
Her drowsy conscience into perfect sleep. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES* 101 

Nay, rather, light the beacon up, to mark 

The inroads of the moral enemy 

That threatens to corrupt our beauteous home ! 

No matter that the sentinel should learn 
That the seraglio all the virtue blights 
Of flowery Eastern lands ; nor yet shall he. 
His post forsake because that tyranny 
And sluggish morals threaten, into vice, 
To sink the rising glories of the North, 
Where Russia boldly struggles with her load, 
And tries to change her mental night to day : 
May wisdom guide her in the safest path ! 
Nor will the watchman slumber, though he sees 
The wit and polish of the French enslav'd 
By the bewitching goddess of debauch, 
And all the ills entail'd upon the Frank ; 
Or when he sees the warring continent 
Expelling virtue by her barbarous sword. 
The guardian of our home must still abide, 
Firm as the rough-skinn'd oak that scorns the blasts 
Of centuries of vicious winds and storms. 
When error makes advance, 'tis his to warn, 
And call his host of moral champions forth 
To guard the truth, and slay the last remains 
Of lust, concupiscence, and nameless vice 
From all their secret haunts ; that, purged and prun'd, 
The tree of virtue, planted high in state. 
Shall spread its healing branches o'er the realm, 
Till purity and goodness rule our land. 

From chaste desires and purity of life 
Proceed a peaceful conscience, which will yield 
A modest cheerfulness — a thing distinct, 
And much oppos'd to mirth and wantonness— 
To ribaldry, profanity, or vice. 
A constant cheerful aspect cannot reign 
Over a loathsome conscience ; cheerfulness 
Is but the overflow of genuine bliss 
From souls ordain'd to constant chastity : 



192 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

She will not brood upon the filthy nest 

Of flesh polluted, or of minds depraVd ; 

However much the sinner feigns to smile, 

There's always acrimony in his cup ; 

His boisterous mirth is but a sudden gush 

Of temporary transport ; he must sink, 

Bragg'd by his crimes, from his presum'd delight, 

To taste of care and feel his countenance fall, 

Oppress'd by stout depravity, like Cain, 

When bloody vengeance wrought her fearful work. 

Once the Athenian youth, licentious grown, 
Procur'd the death of good old Socrates, 
Because his precepts were for them too stern : 
But soon the Pow'rs aveng'd his death. So now, 
If all true saints were slain, calamity 
Would fiercely tramp the nation underfoot : 
Ye heavens protect the good, and for their sake 
Defer the judgment of our wicked isle ! 



HATKED. 

I hate the proud, the lordly leer ; 

I hate the double scheme ; 
I hate the soul that's not sincere, 

And brutes that angels seem. 
I hate the man, the fiend, the slave, 

Devoid of decent sense, 
Who will another's blessings crave 

On any false pretence. 
I scarce can love ! my love's destroy'd 

By treach'rous words and deeds ! 
Yet him I'll love whose life's employ'd 

To heal the wound that bleeds. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 193 



CHAPTER VII. 

Ambition ; her deeds— Alexander, Napoleon, the Duke— Am- 
bition pretends to virtue, yet is destructive, tantalizing, treacherous ; 
her effects on high breeding and on the English in general — On 
Politicians— No bliss in Ambition ; her victims — the Muse rejects 
Ambition, except in virtue. 

Of every varied passion or excess 
That ruptures human souls, Ambition rears 
With most of majesty, and casts disdain 
On all inferior rage ; she apes most kin 
To virtue of the vices' medley train. 
Of patriotic zeal her breath distils 
Like frankincense and myrrh — of glorious deeds, 
Of martial grandeur, and divine exploits. 
She sends our seamen on the raging floods, 
Where, charg'd with savage, deathly elements, 
Our floating castles run their dauntless course, 
And cast their lightning and their thunders forth, 
To consternate our foes. She takes the hand 
Of the philanthropist, and leads him forth 
Through all the quarters of the globe ; all zones 
Of temp' rate, torrid, frigid climes ; o'er sands 
Of Afric's desert, where the fevers burn ; 
Thro' wildest regions of America ; 
And Asia's hostile tribes, to reap the fame 
Of bounteous charity ; to catch the breath 
Of popular applause ; to be admir'd 
As the emancipator of his race 
From physical and moral ills, and hail'd 
As the deliverer of captiv'd men. 
She marks our soldiers' path to fields of blood, 
Where man, insatiate for the life of man, 
Hews down and tramples on his brother's neck, 



194 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

To gain a step to reach the house of fame ; 

All to be starr'd and garter'd by his King, 

And hail'd a knight. Then on our native soil 

Ambition calls our country gentleman 

From rural bliss to senatorial strife, 

To steer the vagrant consciences and fates 

Of the misguided, medley multitude ; 

And in the fickle worship of the throng, 

Be prais'd or blam'd for what he never knew 

Of casual bliss, or grievous ills endur'd ; 

And what he does for good they oft pervert : 

Yet for his honour he must onward press ; 

Ambition will not let her traces slack, 

But like a young, unbroken, fiery steed, 

She drags him through the pits of vulgar mire, 

Until his pristine dignity is soil'd — 

His native virtue all demoraliz'd ! 

To snatch the sceptre from the lawful heir, 
Ambition prompts the tyrant : it was she 
Sent Alexander forth to scourge the world ; 
And bid Napoleon seek imperial pow'r 
O'er all the modern kings, and set the brave 
Old English Duke to stay his course. 
All these, and thousands more, ambitious mad, 
Seem'd virtuous most between the teeth of vice ; 
When, in the rage for greatness, they perform'd 
Their seeming virtuous brav'ry, such as brings 
From iron-fmgei''d famine, war, and death 
The horn of peace and plenty, stor'd with good, 
To bless a wonder-working people. If 
To virtue any vice pretends it, sure, 
Must be Ambition ; yet in th' other scale 
Her stains of crime are deep, like oxide-teeth 
That gnaw the warrior's sword, when heavenly dew 
Would print her kisses on the glittering blade ; 
The promis'd favour brings a murdering curse. 
Effects of good and ill are thus combin'd 
In the best deeds that high Ambition works. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 195 

A strange compound of all excessive things, 

She pleases but to cheat ; she by the throat 

Drags peaceful nations down, and prostrate hurls 

The yielding victims, while the weeping virtues 

Scarcely dare oppose. She scorns the prey 

Of petty morsels Envy deigns to take ; 

She murders not her ones, or tens, or scores, 

Like the inferior passions, save she strikes 

At kings or mighty persons : she hews down 

Whole fields and armies at one desperate swoop ; 

Sinks deep in glutton waves great fleets at once ; 

Dips continents in wo — the earth in strife : 

She blows a moral tempest ; paves her path 

To seats of honour with the bleeding limbs 

Of warriors. She tantalizes on 

"With vain delusions ; and through pain and want 

Bears up the thought- worn scholar, wan and weak 

With day and nightly care, till all his strength 

Is gone, and every farthing spent, to gain 

Some sacred niche of treach'rous templed fame ; 

To have his name enshrin'd in classic lore ; 

To rise within the memories of men, 

Who scom'd him living, by posthumous works — 

A monument that future times shall bless : 

And yet his wife and children, desolate, 

She leaves expos'd to all the ills of life, 

And robs the world of him, the finest work 

That nature hath produc'd ; drives off the soul 

That might have blest the eai*th with sense and peace, 

And, prematurely, in its spring-tide, blasts 

The fruit that summer should with ripeness fill, 

And autumn make delicious. Shame and hate 

Be on the adverse passions which deceive ; 

And curs'd the cruel winds that blow distress 

To sacrifice those sons of genius. 

Ambition oft hath taught the fair the arts 
Of treachery ; to cheat their early loves, 
And, for the empty glitter of the great, 



196 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Barter the virtuous sweets of humble joy ; 
While some for good and bad those partners take, 
For life, they secretly in heart detest ; 
And Hymen witnesses their piteous lies. 

Those scions of the barons, knights, and lords, 
The younger sons, for whom th' estates are not, 
Blest but with poverty and high desires, 
Go forth to ransack universal earth 
In search of hollow grandeur, cash, and plumes ; 
Still, firmly to then blood and breeding glu'd, 
They toil incessant to maintain their birth ; 
And, jealous of their honour, must command — 
Must gain the prize Ambition holds to view, 
Till, deck'd with tenfold glory, some return 
In princely greatness ; some, by Fate deceiVd, 
Refusing life with ignominious toil, 
Amid the hottest battle rush and die, 
In proud Ambition's chains, to consecrate, 
By death, a fame which life refus'd to grant. 

This secret spring exalts the English mind 
To deeds magnanimous ; resolVd, unscar'd, 
Devoted to the purpose ; firm to push 
To victory ; contemptuous of flight ; 
Reckless of fear, or threat'ning pow'rs of foes ; 
Impatient of restraint, it lives alone 
For splendid victory or stubborn death. 
Our national ambition so prevails, 
That life seems useless when of glory shorn. 
But many are the widows' mournful groans, 
And orphans' pains, that daily are produced 
From this proud glutton temper ; friends and foes, 
Both, hence have grief ; and love and fear proceed 
All from the source of our ambitious blood. 

Then hollow politicians, in the list 
Of glory-seekers, spin their bombast stuff 
To woi'k a nation up to rioting ; 
Aspiring to be senators, or kings 
Themselves, whom neither kings nor people heed ; 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 197 

As to amuse, we suffer them awhile, 

And, when sufficiently they act the fool, 

Then send them to their shops to work their trades ; 

Or the obstreperous, like schoolboy rogues, 

Sty up in corners till they lose their fume. 

Ah ! frail ambitious spirit ! what distress, 
What evils, too, are thine ! Thy virtues have 
No name in the anatomy of bliss ! 
Thy trophies are deluded victim ghosts, 
With restless skeletons, that leave their homes, 
And round thy altar gnash, and snarl distress. 
Oft, most successful, most their souls upbraid, 
And drive them on disconsolate and wild, 
With hag unearthly visage of the doom'd ; 
They work their desolation void of aid 
Or sympathy, and thy most prosperous sons, 
With broken constitutions lingering on, 
But prove thy base essential vanity. 
Thou fill'st the dens of poverty and crime — 
The poor-law citadel with blighted men ; 
Bedlam and gaol with wrecks of human might, 
And dregs of mortal valour, whence the pith 
Of vig'rous youth was ripp'd in thy campaigns ; 
All left in disappointment, frail, forlorn, 
To eke existence out with misery ; 
With blasted hopes and stinging consciences ; 
Abus'd by keepers of a hoggish mould, 
Whom still those view with high contempt and scorn : 
While some are laid in cruel bondage lock'd, 
Neglected, lost, unheeded by the world ; 
Betray'd by kin, who, glad to wipe them off, 
Leave them disown'd ; or some, of gen'rous blood. 
Feed these poor victim-worms on pittance lean. 
These are the fruits of foul Ambition's grasp ! 
Then give me not Ambition ! Let me live 
In humble, sweet content ! and let my lot 
Be built on solid bliss, lest the exchange 
Should run beyond the " par" I dare to pay. 



MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

To buy Ambition at the price of peace 

Is twice five hundred shillings for a pound. 

Yet let Ambition have a virtuous sway- 
To gain a moral glory ; let me rise, 
In might, to work a victory of the soul — 
A conquest o'er my passions and my vice : 
Let me aspire beyond the sensual toys 
That please the menial minds, who toil for crowns, 
For lands, for empires, pride and state, and all 
Their empty baubles ! My ambition be 
To rule myself ; my duty to perform ; 
My conscience to preserve ; my ways to guide ; 
To prove what dignity is yet in man, 
Bv'n in his wreck ; to train my spirit up 
Unto immortal greatness, by the rules 
And precepts of the truth ; that thus set free 
From all polluting fetters, I may find 
A pure elysium for th' ambitious mind ! 




TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 199 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Immoderation — Intemperance — Gluttony — Confidence — Com- 
plaisancy — Buffoonery — Of Matter and Mind — Integrity— -Error 
from Ignorance ; from Determination — Excess of Wealth — Intoler- 
ance—Rioting — Poverty ; its misfortune— The Brave— Necessity. 

Immoderation is the curse of men ; 
Nor less of Englishmen than those we deem 
Inferiors in their birth and intellect. 
The censur'd passions were themselves no ill 
Save in th' excess. Hypocrisy, well curb'd, 
And held in reins by all the moral pow'rs, 
Would be but prudent caution, needful oft 
To save our purpose from perversive hate. 
Ambition, pride, and vanity are but 
The misgrown principles of rectitude — 
The native goodness of the human soul, 
By the Creator giv'n to bless our race, 
Till, lost to due restraint of moral truth, 
They run extravagant, and change their forms 
From comely goodness into nauseous vice. 
Thus sin and error out from virtue spring, 
As hell once sprang from heav'n, and devils rose 
From angels, high and glorious in estate : 
So all intemperances destructive prove, 
And fill society with various woes. 

Excess in stimulating food and drink, 
Led on by natural appetites indulg'd, 
Has made us grow, like wolves, carnivorous, 
Unable to exist, save in the pride 
Of worrying, unmeasur'd gluttony, 
Consuming lands of flesh and seas of wine, 
Of spirits, and all burning condiments : 



200 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Yet, ravening in disquietude, we rake 
The earth to please our gustatory nerves. 

Then, in the sphere of manners, oft we see 
Unguarded confidence to insult grows, 
And turns this manly grace to brutish crime. 
Thus carried, by impulsive vanity, 
Beyond the check of natural self-control, 
T^e multitudes usurp ungenial pow'rs, 
And send convulsive anarchy abroad, 
To pull the trembling nations by the ears ; 
And, but for strong instinctive wisdom, would 
Cast empires to the wind, and trample thrones, 
Dominions, kings, and senates into dust ; 
Nursing rebellion, revolution, war, 
For some Utopian dream they know not what, 
Whose best effects are questionably good. 

Then, in the next extreme, we find the hosts 
Of crouching sycophants, who fawn about 
And practise mock complaisance on the great, 
In servile courtesy, that shames and makes 
The man of genuine greatness stand aghast, 
Like some uncultivated country clown. 
If lords, or kings, or princes walk abroad, 
These parasites, with foolishness profuse, 
Their private petty purposes to gain, 
Expend the patience of the noble wise, 
And drive them to unwish'd-for privacy, 
To spend their time as never else they would. 
If kings and queens were gods, there would be men, 
If possible, to spoil their righteous blood, 
And then bewray the faults themselves begat. 

By being oft buffoon' d, the great at times 
Their well-bred tempers lose, and play the churl 
Alike to all, the virtuous and the base. 
Yet bear, ye noble guardians of the truth, 
With all the vulgar caprice of our race ; 
Refuse us not the timely succ'ring hand, 
Nor take advantage of our wild excess : 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 201 

For still immoderation hugs us on 
Through every path and turning of our life. 
Infatuated by the love of fame. 
Honour, or large acquisitive designs, 
"We lose fair virtue's balance, and are cast, 
Like shipwreck'd seamen, on unfriendly rocks 
Of callous-hearted discord, toil, and care, 
That dash all trace of morals from our souls, 
And the original intent of man % 

Is thwarted by unceasing foolishness. 

In the extremes of matter there is sense 
To point our vagrant intellect to truth, 
And teach the emptiness of frail desires. 
But sure some blinding imperfections reign, 
And use Satanic influence o'er the mind, 
The meaner vascillating themes to choose : 
For yet we have some moral courage left, 
Could it but ken the truth ; but, oft betrayed, 
'Tis heedless grown ; the principle decays, 
And we are left to stumble in the dark. 

Would that integrity were glu'd to man 
So close and firm, he could not cast it off 
But skin his very soul ! Such saving clause 
Would purify his moral bent, and curb 
Th' erratic visions of his feeble thought. 

Compassion is the due of him who errs 
Through lack of might ; in whom designing knaves, 
With greater force of villany and scheme, 
Break down his frail opposing arguments, 
And whirl him on the vortices of vice, 
A captive to their int'rest and their will. 
But when the wilful run the round of crime, 
In all voluptuous degrees, through choice- 
Through sheer dishonesty of selfish lust 
Seek all extremes of vicious principle, 
'Tis then a nation suffers ; then she needs 
The succour of the firm discerning few, 



202 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

The man who wanders through his erring wits— 
Who strays from truth because his way is dark, 
With gladness yields to the persuasive hand 
That gently draws him to his proper path. 
Our errors spring from general defects 
Of courage, wisdom, or morality : 
But he, with medium share of natural sense, 
Hath still in him a safe response to truth, 
Ihrough which we may reclaim his vagrant soul. 

Excess of good appears a paradox ; 
Yet 'tis no less a truth, that giant wealth 
Destroys the holy sympathies of man, 
And feeds his follies up ; incites his lust — 
His pride ; and finds out new degrees of vice — 
More pastures where his callous nerves may feed, 
And grow more cruel to the weeping poor. 
Wealth lifts the high beyond their means to see 
The sorrows of the low, and stops their ears, 
So that they seldom hear the cries of wo. 
Wealth spoils humanity ; it frees the rich 
From many pangs of common people's lot ; 
And hence they neither feel nor comprehend 
How pleasant 'tis to bar their teeth from food ; 
To bear about some lingering disease 
Through all the paths of toil ; to daily feel 
Their hunger'd bodies wasting unto death ; 
While yet their families are young, untaught, 
Left unprovided for their future life, 
And cast abroad upon conflicting fates. 

These and a thousand cares the rich know not, 
Who hence believe the poor improvident, 
And then their candour and compassion check ; 
And more intolerant and haughty grow, 
Until the poor, beyond their patience curb'd, 
Break out in open rioting and crime, 
In equal magnitude of wild excess, 
Alike deplorable to virtue's eyes ; 
For all extremes are equally at fault. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 203 



And yet th' extremes which poverty- 
Seem most excusable of all the train : 
They are the fruits of ignorance, of pain, 
And every evil moral influence, 
That daily bind men to their low estate ; 
From whence no art of theirs can set them free. 
What wonder if those poor, at times, break forth, 
Contrary to their better reasoning sense, 
And madly risk whate'er of good they have ! * 

How poverty can change the noble mind ! 
Can break the honest spirit down, to deal 
In double shifting subterfuge, and seem 
A rogue when most inclin'd to do the truth : 
The poor man's poverty denies his wish, 
And anchors all his goodness in the mire ; 
His best intent is thought hypocrisy — 
His conscientious truth oft deem'd a lie ; 
His means deny what good he loves to do, 
And, while his truth of heart remains, he still 
Holds on, in hope, to promise what is just ; 
Till fate, at last, denies him pow'r to pay, 
And all pronounce him rogue. This poverty 
Makes more of seeming rogues than any vice 
That stains the heart : it gives the will to do, 
But, in performances, deceives that will, 
While all account the failure as a theft. 

This poverty's a fatal accident, 
That breaks the bones of spotless, honest fame, 
Until it has no strength to stand erect ; 
For he who once stood high in loves of men 
Is martyr'd when his riches take the wing. 
Cash makes the stately vessels sail in pride, 
But poverty will all their timbers rot, 
Till they must founder in th' unpitying wave. 
Cash sets the brutish, sturdy-headed man 
To hector, domineer, and point on those 
Whose natures far exceed the worth of his. 
The poor man cannot borrow, nor can buy 



204 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

But for some present cash, while richer men, 
With confidence, to borrow thousands go ; 
May run their bills for years, to strain the trade ; 
Then turning bankrupt, hurl their friends to ruin. 
Their hard-bound creditors dar'd not presume 
To ask their cash, and sink to rise no more. 

The want of cash makes poverty oft sneak 
Iu, trick and artifice, and practise crime 
It ne'er had known but for this deadly curse. 

Oh, frail humanity ! I would that tears 
Of honest truth could wash thy vices clean ; 
Then would I be effeminate awhile ; 
My substance should to briny fluids change, 
To cleanse me from the laws of vanity. 

Yet honour to the brave, the generous great, 
Who dare to thwart the common course of wrong, 
And seem t' atone for other people's faults 
By unexpected deeds of kindliness ; 
By pity, even to a stranger giv'n, 
Which makes the charity feel doubly good. 
May Heav'n adorn such moral warrior, 
Who, to the credit of our nation, yet 
Holds kindly forth the timely succouring hand. 
A stranger's hand oft gives a richer boon 
Than kindred blood. Hear this, my quondam friends 
Nor more distract with false and specious howl ! 
I was not born to live in mockery! 
Or ever known to use it o'er the fall'n. 

0, curs' d necessity, that chills my blood ; 
That drives me into baseness which I hate ; 
That bids me live without a gleam of hope, 
Or die without the pow'r to meet my foes ! 
But stay ! run not to infamous extremes ; 
For balm is yet in Britain, which may work 
The turpitude of morals from our land. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 205 



CHAPTER IX. 

Men curse themselves by Conflicts and Discontent — Superficiality 
and Disappointment — Sinking of Energy ; Despair — Felo de SE — 
Cowardice and Bravery — Ingenuity ; its operations — Trade — 
Prosperity and reverse— The Antidote— Patient rerseverance. 

Mankind, toss'd high on all conflicting ills, 
Will not, or cannot thrive ; but curse themselves, 
And plunge about upon the sea of strife, 
Thro' adverse winds and tides, from wave to wave ; 
From great to greater perturbation run, 
As though intent to taste all bitter weeds — 
All rank and nauseous draughts that mortal knows. 
Still Discontent serves unto them a god, 
At whose unholy shrine they worship much, 
And in whose rites they slaughter all their herds. 
He with a cottage for some mansion pines, 
And he with realms still covets all the earth. 

So boundless, so extravagant, is man, 
For ever striving for some good unknown : 
Forgetful of his present joys, he climbs 
To higher hills, to rise beyond the clouds — 
The clouds of darken' d circumstantial life. 
But fate still fences round his hopes and him : 
He fights but for a vision — is but man ; 
And still the cares and woes of man are his. 

And thus we trifle out the irksome space 
That nature most allows ; and thus, thro' life, 
In phantom chases we pursue our dreams, 
And end, at last, our hopes and joys, and cares, 
As frail and flick'fing smoke, which tapers yield 
When smouldering in accumulated dregs. 



206 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

'Tis thus the turmoil of our life is vain — 
Ts lighter, more uncertain than the wind ; 
When most we think to reap, then, thwarted most, 
We victims fall to desolating care. 

In silly hoats we dare the moral seas, 
Devoid of compass, helm, or sail, or oar ; 
And, on the mighty storms of passions, strive 
To skim the tide of fortune, and of bliss. 
But, thus equipp'd, how foolish the attempt ; 
Nor pride, rtbr subterfuge, can bear us through ; 
Nor can ambition, neither envy's guile, 
Secure the port of rest, or ease the mind. 
Nor peace, nor joy, is the reward of him 
Who takes time's faulty compass for his guide ; 
Still hurried on confusive billows, wild, 
He sinks his vessel e'er he learns to steer ; 
Unfix'd in purpose, void of anchoring ground, 
His course is random, and his port unknown ; 
His latitudes, and longitudes, and charts, 
And all his reck'ning mostly far untrue. 

The mania of outward show usurps 
Control o'er sterner, straighter, humble sense. 
As birds that fly amid the upper air, 
Till scarce they see the surface of the land, 
Pass over many fruits attainable 
To those of lower course ; so towering men 
Of shallow pride, and superficial wit, 
Outrun themselves, and pass the greater boon 
That well-instructed, graver wisdom gains ; 
Their hope puts forth her realizing hand, 
But gets destroying serpents by the fang, 
And weeping Disappointment seals their fate. 
Then Discord snatches up her chariot-reins, 
And pushes on the mad career of strife. 

The men of wisest sense are oft betray'd ; 
They find, at last, they liv'd and toil'd in vain ; 
And die more destitute than they were born, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 207 

Because, unwittingly, they soar too high ; 

Or, taking hapless turns, their prizes lose. 

How much the more, then, must the thoughtless crowd 

Display the childish sympathies of man 

In trifling superficial foolishness. 

Thus wearied by unfruitful toils and cares, 
By empty sounds — by tinsel, baubles, toys, 
The striving spirits of mankind, at last, 
Succumb beneath their overgrowing load ; 
Their youthful energies and valour sink, 
Until that fiend, Despair, supplies the touch 
That finishes the portraiture of flesh. 
The proud, the mighty, and the gorgeous once, 
Now sinking with his load of mortal ills, 
Resolves at last to struggle on no more 
Amid his homely griefs, but boldly launch 
To other seas, to risk the sterner fates : 
To wo, oblivion, or suppos'd redress 
He pushes out his terror-stricken soul 
From her frail home, by suicidal hands. 

So perish many of the outworn souls, 
Whose chequer'd lives no more afford a gleam 
Of present peace or tantalizing hope, 
To cheer their troubled, plodding, ebbing life. 
Thus, too, unnaturally fall the brave, 
Who, by mistaken courage, strive to shun 
Tho evil of their day. 

Felo-de-se ! 
Thy fearful name, like an electric shock, 
Strikes feeble reason down in black dismay ; 
Like light'ning, scorches up the vital pow'rs 
To stand aghast in temporary death, 
In wonder at thy monstrous weaknesses, 
The self-engender' d frailties of thy race ! 
Men still asham'd to own such depth of crime, 
T' extenuate the fault, invent new names, 
That seem to change the essence of the deed, 
And so to cheat the point of virtue's truth. 



208 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Were it not braver yet to stoutly bear 
Some few short years, at most, the toil of time ; 
Still buffet through the bursting waves of strife, 
Display the nobler side of natural pride, 
Ambition, envy, and the sterner traits 
Of manly virtue, persevering on 
Amid all real and apparent ills ? 
'Tis cowardly to yield and run the war ! 
True honour must fight through her hardest foes 
'Tis mean to use unlawful schemes to shun 
The certain evil of our mortal state ; 
'Tis nobler much, and ornaments the man, 
To live with patience to his natural end, 
Waiting, with fortitude, whate'er betides. 
He is the glorious man, the pride of earth, 
Whom perseverance guides ! whom duty rules ! 
Who, undismay'd by all conflicting pow'rs, 
Still pushes on for virtue's fair reward, 
Ambitious for the smiling of his God. 

And yet what wonder, when our mortal ills 
Are fully felt, that feeble reason reels, 
And falters in her course, like drunken men, 
Till, dashing all her will and reason out, 
She breaks the equilibrium of the soul, 
And feasts upon her own or other's blood ! 
Perverting nature by her partial views, 
She vascillates between the right and wrong — 
Turns joy to grief, and comfort to despair. 

Man's ingenuity is tax'd to plan 
All novel sources for more creature joys. 
All new inventions, sciences, and arts, 
By turns maintain the universal vogue ; 
The modes of manufactures daily change ; 
All ways and means of witty skill are us'd 
To find new fortunes, luxury, or boast ; 
To plan new schemes to pass through land and sea, 
That seem 't annihilate both space and time, 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 209 

And so combine, in one short wandering life, 
The pleasures and the scenes of twice the span. 

The bold successful artist, when he gains 
Some wondrous step in scientific skill, 
That turns the process of extensive trades, 
And makes a nation bow to his designs, 
Receives applause for genius ; thrives awhile ; 
Throws thousands out from well-taught humble toil ; 
Runs on in glory, as a master-spirit, 
And grows in fatness on the common loss ; 
Till one, more bless' d, climbs higher still in parts, 
And casts all former faVrites to the dust, 
To reign his turn of joy a little space : 
He daily grows in magnitude and fame, 
Till in his firmament he brightest shines, 
And gains from men a menial worshipping, 
As the controlling star of mundane fate. 
Thus all, in turns, are mighty ; all are low ; 
All thrive, or pine, as genius leads the way ; 
For each invented novelty is hail'd 
By greedy multitudes as a great boon, 
That shall recruit their drooping energies, 
And feed their life's career with cream of joy. 

Ambition pushes ingenuity 
Apace, through all the circles of the arts, 
The sciences, professions, pleasures, trades ; 
Each day hath new pretensions, all as vain 
As those each day discards, — till earth is gorg'd 
With cures, nepenthes, and panaceas, 
Each with its promissory principal 
And interest, cent, per cent. ; but bills return'd, 
With heavy costs, bring these inventions down ; 
Some crisis, or some panic, strikes them all, 
And each and all in some discredit fall. 

Nor could the system its disgrace escape ; 
For, built on wrecks, it must to ruin turn : 
The means it uses must on it revert, 
As giants fall by other mighty hands. 

t 2 



210 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

By ingenuity all crafts arise — 
All practices — all systems, arts, and trades ; 
And this same ingenuity, o'ergrown 
Alike by too great impulse, slays them all ! 

When trade is prosp'rous, all admire its charms ; 
The bankers and the lawyers, made of cash, 
Can lend large sums to speculative men, 
(Yet always on the first securities !) 
To make their wealth by force of others' brains. 
But should some trifling breeze of adverse wind 
Sweep the horizon of commercial views, 
The daily news they scan with eager haste ; 
Then bankers' "sweating-rooms" are much employ'd ! 
The lawyers' thumb-screw their dependencies ! 
And squeeze their helpless clients' profits out. 
These selfish patrons curb the general course ; 
They stay abruptly their assisting hands, 
And the ingenious tribes are sacrific'd. 
So pass the speculative visions on, 
As solar smiles paint on the blacken'd sky 
The bow of hope : but soon the sun retires ; 
He hides behind the clouds, the bow departs, 
And furious storms reverse the promis'd bliss. 
Great Mammon mostly triumphs over Mind, 
And Thought and Talent ars the fools of wealth. 

What antidote, then, have we but resolve 
To patiently endure the chequer'd lot 
That forms the substance of our short career ? 
To be inspir'd with higher, holier thoughts, 
And, looking down disdainfully upon 
The minor, trifling toils of common strife, 
Defy, and still avoid, the tempting pow'rs, 
That strive to snare our rectitude of soul ? 
To choose the path of truth, and persevere, 
Still striving with the trials of the way ; 
Still holding on thro' all opposing war 
Of body, soul, or circumstantial ill. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 211 

Firm perseverance in a good resolve 
Is the sheet-anchor of th' aspiring soul, 
By which she rides the storms and cuts the blast. 
This is the secret road to good success — 
The guardian of our peace, our constant friend ; 
And well distinguishes the happy brave 
From the poor trifling coward, who hath not 
The might or will to act the part that's right. 

Then persevere awhile ! ye may succeed 
Even beyond the fairest views of hope. 
"Without this charm, ye will be trodden down — 
Will sink in tribulation's angry sea, 
While yet you might in grandeur ride the main. 
Bid the broad sea of vice reverse her tide, 
And roll her horror back around her slaves, 
Who in the path of darkness stumble on. 
Take Nature for your guide, by Wisdom train' d, 
And live subservient to the laws of Truth. 



TRUTH. 

Be Truth the star that guides our helm 
Across the troubled seas of life ; 

And then, if cares would overwhelm, 
Its rays will guide us thro' the strife. 

Be Truth the pow'r we daily court 
To fill the secrets of our soul ; 

And it will furnish us a fort 
That never tyrant may control. 

Be Truth the word we daily speak, 
Whate'er transactions we perform ; 

Then should our foes their hatred wreak, 
We may deride their feeble storm. 

Be Truth the treasure we lay up, 
Thro' every state, where'er we live ; 

Then heav'n at last will fill our cup 
With the best joys that God can give ! 



212 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 



CHAPTER X. 

The Purposes of Human Life— Perversion of Purposes— Frailty of 
Man — Imperfection of the Human Mind in the present state, com- 
pared with the Perfection of Vegetable and Animal Powers — 
Future Perfection — Nature's Laws of Perfection — Reanimatio'n 
and Immortality. 

What is the purpose, then, of Man's career ? 
Is it to waste his virtue, talents, strength, 
In all the prodigalities of time ; 
And then depart at random in the dark, 
Both unprepar'd and reckless of the change ? 
Or is't that we are to perversion born, 
To be the sport of all conflicting pow'rs, 
And chain'd by adverse laws, above our might, 
Which bind us down to what we wish to shun ? 
To live in unavailing toil and care ? 
To struggle under loads of moral wrongs, 
That sink, at last, our courage and our strength ? 
To drive our rueful spirits from their home, 
And bid us live and die in vanity ? 
Is this strange pilgrimage of mortals meant 
As merely trial of their skill and wit, 
To make superior pow'rs a daily sport 
Of laughter at the unavailing strife ? 
Or is it not that men have run the lengths 
Of wildest, wilful prodigality ? 
Have courted ev'ry mischief, passion, vice 
That lust hath made imperative of wrong ? 

Why, could it be that nature, or her God, 
That hath creative pow'r, should spend that pow'r, 
And its companions, knowledge, wisdom, wit, 
To make such very arrant fools and knaves ? 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 218 

Nay, sure 'tis a derogatory thought, 

That Virtue, which could make such wondrous things 

Should make those things so wondrously absurd ! 

Wisdom, like other parents, gets her like ; 

And Wisdom, which at first created man, 

Would sure produce him perfect in his kind. 

But as some high-bred steed, on bounty fed, 

Elate in pride and strength, hath haughty grown, 

Headlong, above his wit, and spurn'd restraint 

Of all the common reins, by dashing forth, 

Soon furious to unseen destruction runs : 

So man, regardless of the friendly curb 

That Wisdom hath ordain' d, hath scorn'd the rein, 

And new inventions form'd to rule himself : 

But man, adverse to Him who made the man, 

Hath plann'd new systems full of ev'ry ill, 

Of error, passion, villany, and vice ; 

And these are the ingredients of our cup 

Which bitter all the purposes of life. 

Now, foil'd by imperfections, men run through 
A weary life of daily fruitless toil, — 
Still pushing on for visionary bliss, 
Which this erroneous state can ne'er attain : 
And yet, untiring as the rolling years, 
The mind pursues the cause and consequence 
Of all created things in earth and heaven ; 
Stretching in noble aspirations forth 
To scan the secrets of the universe. 
But feeble-born inheritors of flesh 
Are bound by such a chain 6f weaknesses 
Unto their frail estate, they cannot rise 
Beyond the span their frailties have prescrib'd ; 
For when the growing mind attains the age 
To recognise some purposes of things, 
Then matter fails to work the equal task ; 
The muscles, sinews, vessels, bones, or nerves 
Are ruptur'd, numb'd, or suffering decay ; 
Become too frail to bear the spirit up, 
Through the fatigues the rising mind prescribes ; 



214 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

Till man, imperfect yet in wit and sense — 

Unripe in all his thoughts and principles — 

Succumbs beneath the frailties of the flesh ; 

Betrays a weakness in created good — 

A strange deficiency of consequence 

Not else beheld in all the universe. 

He sinks before his zenith is acquir'd ; 

His glass is broke before his sand is run ; 

His stem is cut before his flow'r is blown ; 

His root decays before his fruit is ripe ; 

Man dies as naught else in creation dies ! 

The plants and trees to full perfection grow, 

And at the moment of their ripeness fail ; 

And all the other animals go on 

To grow and fatten to a certain state — 

To know as much as they were made to learn, 

Bach perfect in his own specific kind. 

But man, unfill'd, unripe, aspiring still 

To further lengths and depths of Wisdom's creed, 

To fill the great vacuity of soul, 

Which yet the wisest and the mightiest feel, 

And, feeling, scorn themselves as incomplete. 

Man lives and dies an isolated thing, 

In his pretensions and experience, 

And falls before he gains his purpos'd end. 

Then can it be that this expansive mind — 
That all these mighty visions of the soul, 
(Yea, even great, though crude and undefin'd,) 
Were brought to being for no real use, 
Save just to tantalize deluded hopes, 
And then depart, through some uncertain course, 
Before perfection of mankind is found ? 
Nay, so imperfect here, we sure must grow 
In some hereafter state, and fulness reap 
For all our earth-sown seed. 

'Tis nature's way 
To run through all the graduated scale 
Of beings, living or inanimate ; 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 215 

And rise, by just and systematic steps, 
All things proportionate to their designs : 
But each one separate fruition hath, 
That fills, but gluts not, its capacity. 
The constant ebbing and the flowing sea ; 
The waxing and alternate waning moon ; 
The changeful, turning seasons of the year ; 
The rise and fall of vegetative juice ; 
. The harmony aud beauty of our sphere ; 
The rich and fruitful produce of the earth, 
And just proportion of all nature's pai'ts, 
Bespeak perfection, and a purpos'd end, 
Suiting the state of each and course of all ! 
Showing the wisdom of the ruling law 
That executes one universal scheme. 
All things their zenith and their nadir have, 
And to accomplishment their circle run ; 
Then die in glory, crown' d with perfect fruit. 
But man on earth is immature in mind — 
Still fill'd with faults, with errors, and defects, 
And looking forward to some riper state 
Where his condition may be rectified. 

Perhaps 'tis needful here (tho' scarce we know) 
That evils should exist and crosses thwart, 
Or that impediments should clog the wheels 
That work the great machinery of mind ; 
That hence our virtues may be kept alert 
By constant struggling through a painful path ; 
And that our mind, aware of enemies, 
May never dare to slumber, but push on, 
True hero-like, the more as foes increase. 
But whether needful such a daily goad, 
Or whether life be clogg'd with needless woes, 
This truth we know, that ills thro' life exist ; 
And that 'tis Wisdom's only certain plan 
To stoutly struggle onward to the goal 
Where all uncertainty, and pain, and ill 
Shall vanish or transmute ; and when shall rise 
Some more immaculate and happy state. 



216 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 

"Tis sure enough that Wisdom hath an end 
Of happiness for all who rightly live ; 
That imperfections shall he perfected ; 
That cares and toilings shall at last depart ; 
That mortal vanities shall go extinct ; 
And all th' enigmas of this life be solv'd 
Amid the grand result of Wisdom's laws, 
When nature's mysteries are all reveal' d. 
Till then we wait with patient toil and hope, 
Like the incipient insect, buried deep 
When winter comes, till spring revives its life, 
And rears it up to glory else unknown : 
So we shall doubtless rise to perfect bliss, 
In some superior state that follows this, 
Where meek regard to the Creator's laws 
Shall rise reliev'd from all its earthly woes. 



REANIMATION. 



The beauties of the forest and the field, 
The gay green leaves and richest floral hues, 
Adorn' d. the varied prospects. Life prevail'd, 
Fair and profuse ; in every field were beasts — 
In every bush were birds, and on each leaf 
Some curious insect, all in joyous strength ; 
And fruits in clusters, pensile on the bough, 
Offer'd their rich, refreshing, juicy sweets 
To cheer the hearts of passing travellers. 
The earth then carpeted with every bloom, 
As one extended, lovely garden seem'd, 
Pretending e'en to vie with Paradise. 



TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 217 

But then the sun went round his winter path, 
And tempests swept across the flowery earth ; 
All nature starv'd ; the leaves and blossoms fell ; 
Insects, and birds, and animals were lost 
By millions ; and those of greater limb, 
Which braVd the with'ring influence of the first, 
Fell in the second storm, and would have died, 
Had not some human succour them preserv'cL 
The killing pow'r of winter's frost was felt, 
And the descending snow wrapt nature up 
In one unspotted shroud ; and man himself, 
And his domestic beasts, could scarce survive ; 
All starv'd and feeble, as in shades of death, 
Some fail'd to bear the elementary strife. 

But turning, now, from this far-distant tract, 
Bright Sol again approaches in his strength, 
And sends upon the earth a living ray ; 
His heat recalls the principles of life ; 
The deathly cold departs ; the ice and snow 
No more maintain ; the fluids brisker run 
Through animal and vegetative life, 
And reassume the functions of their state : 
Now beauteous vigour everywhere bursts forth, 
And all again is pleasant, strong, and fair. 

So is the course of man diversified ; 
Now full of joy and health, and glorying, 
He sports about and feels his muscles firm, 
Knows no disease (save partially by name), 
And scarce in summer-time of life conceives 
How evil can betide : but winter comes, 
And winter-death cuts down his hopes and him. 

Yet there's another spring which must succeed 
The wintry cold of death ; that spring will come 
With the reviving power of heav'nly heat ; 
The deathless sun that quickens other suns 
Shall range in glory thro' the firmament — 
Shall penetrate the ceilings of the grave. 
And through our cold remains new life infuse. 



218 MEDITATIONS, &C, OF THE TIMES. 

Ye stupid Infidels ! how can it be 
That the bright Intellect of man, which soars 
So far and high, can ever be extinct ? 
Or how resolv'd to move in other beings ? 
Come, see, whence has this intellect retir'd ? 
The corpse is still as perfect in its parts 
As is the living body ; all its limbs 
And members only want the Spirit's aid 
To act as heretofore. If yet the Spirit 
Be nothing more than matter, 'twill be found 
Among the members ; but where is it seen ? 
Now, stretch your eyes, ye blind anatomists, 
For, if the soul be matter, sure 'tis there, 
As nothing can annihilated be ! 
The fire or flood may change a body's form, 
But still it must exist; yes, every atom ! 
In spite of human skill ! Then where's the Mind ? 
Ye cannot see it ! Ah ! but look again ! 
It must be there ! Dissect the inner parts — 
The head, the brain, the heart ; nay, every nerve 
And every fibre ! Now, where is the Soul % 
Nay ! what % Can it not yet be found ? Ah, fie ! 
What, all the parts are there, and plain to see, 
Except the sense and intellect are lost. 
Yet something's lost that lifts a man so high 
Above the race of brutes ; the man and beast, 
In life so different, equal seem in death. 
Then where's that difference gone ? Who saw it fly ? 
For if material, 'twould be seen depart ; 
But if it can't be seen, then 'tis a Spirit — 
A Spirit that must live in ripen'd pow'r 
When freed from its base lumbering load of clay ; 
Fed by the vigour of a living Sun, 
Through one eternal summer, shall sustain 
The pleasant warmth, or painful scorching heat, 
That hold dominion in the future states — 
Shall taste in a superlative degree 
Of Bliss or Wo ; that Bliss is Heaven — that Woe is 
Hell! 



MISCELLANEOUS 
SHORT POEMS 



LIGHT. 



Hail ! lovely light ! 

The morning's bride, 
So gay and bright 
In orient pride, 
Soft blushing thro' the concave East,, 
To bless all eyes with beauty's feast, 

For ever fair, 

For ever new ! 
No storms impair 
Thy lovely hue ! 
Sweet harbinger of pleasure ! 
The source of fruit and treasure ! 

Health conserver ! 

Purifier ! 
Life preserver ! 
Vivifier ! 
Oft would, when nature's foes assail, 
"Without thy presence all men quail. 

Then hail, fair light ! 

The morning's bride, 
So gay and bright 
In orient pride ! 
Still reign amidst the concave sky, 
To bless with beauty every eye. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE LOST THOUGHT. 

When day was fled, and night had come, 

I laid me on my feathery bed ; 
My thought untir'd, yet far would roam 

Beyond the region of the head. 

My soul, as imp'd for angel-flight, 
The universe of things would sweep ; 

Nor long fatigue, nor sable night, 

Could force my rebel thought to sleep. 

Then my imagination caught 

A splendid vision in the view, 
And captur'd, soon, a beauteous thought 

From themes that heaVnly minds pursue. 

Now satisfied, I sank to rest 

In th' sluggish, deathly arms of sleep ; 
Expecting that my mind, so bless' d, 

This new inspiring theme would keep. 

But in distress I wak'd at morn, 

My treasur'd bliss of thought was fled ; 

The rosy dreams from me were torn ! 
And sweet imagination dead ! 

With disappointed, hasty mind, 
I stretch'd my sorrowing vision far, 

The short-liv'd fairy thought to find 
In earth, or moon, or sun, or star ! 

My fiery soul then quickly scal'd 
The mount where wiser angels dwell, 

And o'er her nat'ral foars prevail' d, 
To scan the dark abodes of hell. 

But now no more, nor here, nor there, 

This fugitive by me is seen ; 
And, spite of all my memory's care, 

To me 'tis tho' it ne'er had been. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 221 

To the Omniscient eye alone 

This flying thought must stand confess'd ; 
And, as it once within me shone, 

I pray again 'twould make me bless' d. 



A VIRGIN SPRITE. 

Like sunshine on the sea; 

Like calm succeeding storm ; 
Like flow'rets on the lea, 

Of beauteous simple form ; 

Like darkness lost in light ; 

Like winter turn'd to spring ; 
Or like the bird of night, 

That lonely loves to sing ; 

Like peace succeeding war ; 

Like diamonds from the pit ; 
Or like the polar star 

With rays of glory lit ; 

So is one virgin-sprite, 
In recollection's view, 

My memory's delight ! 
Tho' old, for ever new ! 



MONEY FAVOUR. 

The deed that's deemed a sin in one 

Seems virtue in another ; 
The act that goes for crime in John 

Gives merit to his brother : 
For Johnny's brother has the cash, 

While Johnny's poor and blighted ; 
And he with money cuts a dash, 

That chance may get him knighted. 
v 2 



222 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

TO SLEEP. 

Sleep, thou art a welcome guest I 
Sweet composer, balmy friend ! 

Often thou, by timely rest, 

Bring' st our daily woes an end. 

Weary bones and aching flesh 
Daily are by thee renew' d ; 

By thine aid kept fair and fresh, 
And with greater might imbu'd. 

Come ! in gentle influence come ! 

O'er my aching members spread ; 
Call my wand'ring spirits home ; 

Drive my caring from my head ! 

In thy semi-death embrace 
Let me sleep my pains away, 

Till, with new-created grace, 
Morning finds me fresh and gay. 



LIVE IN HOPE. 

Still live in hope, nor heed the clouds- 
The threat'ning clouds that rise ; 

We may survive the pending show'r, 
And view serener skies. 

Still live in hope, nor dread the foes 

Who dare annoy thy path ; 
We may o'ercome the worst of those, 

And scorn their feeble wrath. 

Still live in hope — there is a Pow'r 
That gives us what is mete ; 

And if to-day the cup be sour, 
The morrow's may be sweet. 

Then live in hope, nor once despair, 
Tho' earth and hell oppress ; 

Preserve thy heart with holy care, 
And heav'n will bring redress. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
DELIA. 

Young Delia was a charming girl ; 

My soul did her approve : 
Nay, 'tis a truth, I lov'd the girl, 

But never told my love. 

Her cheeks were fair, her eyes were clear 

And lovely to behold ; 
Yet though I held her beauty dear, 

My love I never told ! 

Another won her ! May he find 

Her faithful as the dove : 
My love could ne'er pollute her mind — 

yhe never knew my love ! 

May she to him in thraldom sweet 

Her true affection prove ; 
In kindness, now, we must not meet, 

Lest she might learn my love. 



SONG. 

What means that heavy sigh, my dear, 
That sounds so loud and deep ? 

What means that downcast eye, my dear, 
That seems to almost weep ? 

Has some base youth been falsely wooing, 

And tempted thee to love ? 
Hast thou been cheated by the cooing 

Of some pretended dove ? 

Nay, cheer up, now, nor live despairing ! 

Resume thy dimples, now ! 
Cheer up, my love — forget thy caring, 

And smooth thy furrow' d brow. 

The world has joys yet undiscover'd, 
To suit that heart of thine ! 

And soon thy peace may be recover'd, 
And bliss upon thee shine ! 



224 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

AN ADVENTURE OF JOHN WISEACRE. 

A lawyer's clerk from Whitby went 

To gather master's cash ; 
And on a horse, with empty purse, 

Set off with splendid dash. 

And when he'd made his best of trade, 

Deliv'ring all the bills, 
His shallow head was almost dead 

With drinking ale by gills. 

It came on night — not very light, 
And he of ghosts did fear ; 

As o'er the moor he trembled sore, 
And dream'd his foes were near. 

And 'tis a truth, a valiant truth ! 

As now the wags declare, 
He drew a brace of pistols out, 

Declaring open war ! 

He saw a thief, to his belief, 
And lest he should be lost, 

He brave did cock his pistol's lock, 
And shot an old gate-post ! 

Then to his horse with treble force 

He laid the lashes on, 
And swore he'd serve the villain out 

By telling Lawyerson ! 

Now, should the lawyer sue away, 

To get some heavy cost, 
Can you pretend what harm may pend 

Over this old gate-post ? 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 225 

A SUMMER'S DAY. 

How lovely and gay is a summer's fine day, 

When nature is sporting her plumes ; 
When the beautiful sky is so bright and so high, 

And the hVry of azure assumes. 

When all species of bird in their music are heard, 

Like heavenly harmony sweet ; 
And everywhere the flow'rets prepare 

Gay carpeting under the feet. 

The cattle so sleek the fresh rivulets seek, 

Or run to be cool'd in the shade ; 
The insect and reptile sport out as they will, 

And the secrets of nature invade. 

Then, pleasant and sweet, all the objects we meet 

Bestow us a welcoming smile, 
Till the rain and the wind unite to rescind 

The pleasures that bloom'd to beguile. 

For tempests and storms, in terrible forms, 

Oft give to sweet beauty a blow ; 
And the richest of bloom is removed to the tomb 

Before its full merit we know. 

So man in his prime is as summer's gay time, 

All fill'd with enjoyment and glee ; 
His heart-strings rebound, and his efforts are crown'd 

With fruits that are pleasant to see. 

But a midsummer storm may in morals perform 

The service of blighting your lot ; 
And the mind when elate with its prosperous state 

Should secure all the bliss it has got. 



226 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE COURSE OF LIFE. 

Year after year we onward glide 
Down Time's impetuous stream, 

While beauteous scenes on either side 
Appear as but a dream. 

Upstarting with a feeble cry,. 

The babe comes into life ; 
Then blooms as tho' it ne'er would die, 

And smiles at care and strife. 

Still growing with each passing day, 
Anon fine manhood comes, 

And blithe and cheerful, fresh and gay, 
He revels, sports, and roams. 

His prospects widen as he goes, 
His hope grows large and bright, 

And tho' at times some care he knows, 
That care is only light. 

He to and fro runs far and wide 

To seek his own desires, 
Till disappointments soon betide, 

And oft his effort tires. 

More hacknied now he feels the world — 
More stiff, more fierce, more hard ; 

For sorrow on his path is hurl'd, 
And sweetest bliss is marr'd. 

Advancing on through Life's short stage, 
The charms of youth are past ; 

His friends are lost, and growing age 
Comes pressing on him fast. 

He bends beneath his load of years, 
And pants for lack of strength ; 

And as he walks, his step appears 
But half its former length. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 227 

His beauteous locks have left his brow ; 

His other hair is white ; 
His senses all are dull and low, 

And very dim his sight. 

His spirit can no longer stop 

In such an injur' d cell ; 
The flesh falls dead — the soul flies up 

To Heaven, or sinks to Hell ! 

Then, living men, while you have breath, 

Improve each moment's flight ; 
For soon, at latest, Time and Death 

Your noblest powers will smite ! 



THE INVALID'S COMPLAINT, 

Alas ! how wretched is my lot ; 

The spring smiles not for me ! 
For me the flow'rets blossom not, 

On the gay distant lea. 

I cannot walk abroad, to mark 
How, to the fine blue sky, 

The blithe and tunesome little lark 
Goes flutt'ring up on high. 

I must not taste the balmy air, 

Or kick the pearly dew 
That sparkles on the meadows fair. 

While blushing day is new. 

I lonely on the couch recline, 
Submissive, painful, weak ; 

To trust upon the will divine, 
That can my bondage break. 

I must, I will, my God adore, 
Who measures out my wo ; 

I might have been afflicted more, 
But He restrains the foe. 



228 MISCELLANEOUS SHOET POEMS. 

THE SWALLOW. 

I love to see the swallows build, 

And mark their native joy, 
When spring with glee their hearts hath fill'd, 

And love is their employ. 

I stand transfix'd to watch their care — 

Their diligence and skill ; 
And see the mates their labour share 

With kind endearing will. 

By skilful rules and wondrous art 

Their mansions they erect, 
Compact and true in every part, 

Their children to protect. 

Should Metamorphosis require 
That I my form should change, 

The swallow's I would then desire, 
And through the world would range ! 

I and my mate would take the wing 

Thro' every pleasant zone, 
And the sweet song of nature sing 

Wherever summer shone. 

And when I wearied in my flight, 

On Plato's grave I'd die ; 
Or else by Sophocles alight, 

Or near to Virgil lie ; 

That their sweet themes, in nature's force, 

Might kindle life in mine ; 
Which, through devout creation's course, 

Clinibs to the Fount Divine ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 229 

REFLECTIONS ON WALKING ROUND YORK MINSTER, 

Sunday, April 25th, 1852. 

(With an Engraving.) 

Bold and stupendous sacred pile ! 

With awful reverence I stay 

My cares a moment to beguile, 

As thy rich fabric I survey. 

The pow'r of heavenly thought 

Hath thy great wonders wrought ; 

None else such wit have caught 

Save men divinely taught. 
Tho' man affects to rule the arts, 
TV Eternal School his might imparts ! 

Around thy gorgeous parts I gaze, 
Till, wrapt in wonder and amaze, 
I stand constrain'd to give my praise 
To the designs of ancient days. 

Tho' we pretend to rise 
Above the olden time ; 

And think ourselves most wise, 
Greatest, and most sublime ! 
Yet here, if bias we remove, 
Our equals our forefathers prove ! 

Produce your pride of modern art, 
In all its blooming consequence ; 
Let mighty wealth its aid impart, 
And choose your men of subtlest sense ! 

Some nobler work devise, 

Aspiring to the skies ; 

Astound our wondering eyes 

With new-born prodigies ; 
We'll turn admiring, to compare, 
If nobler marks your products bear. 



280 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

Our modern patience mostly fails ; 
Our persevering virtue quails ; 
Foul avarice our will assails, 
Awhile the love of sloth prevails ; 

Hence run we oft astray ; 
Tho' science leads the race ; 

Our morals faint away ; 
"We wane in manly grace ! 
Traffic and haste usurp the throne 
Whereon, of old, devotion shone ! 

Our fathers were not void of mind ! 
Or whence should we so mighty grow ? 

And 'tis a question if we find 
More wealth of soul amongst us now ! 
This proudly vaunting age 
Will wars of visions wage, 
With scientific rage, 
To swell th' historic page ! 

And, like a meteor in the sky, 

May burst by swelling over high ! 

Still men are men, nor less, nor more, 
Nor worse, nor better, than of yore ; 
Only they run new phases through, 
And take new forms in most they do. 

They rise like the new moon ; 
They prosper and they shine, 

Till, retrograding soon, 
They hasten to decline ! 
Thus generations rise and sink, 
And men are frail, whate'er they think ! 

Yet wondrous do these works appear, 
With more than vain magnificence ; 
Something we always must revere 
When man assumes his better sense : 
His works of art declare 
That more than brute is there ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 231 

That mind, supremely fair, 

Attends him everywhere ! 
That mind o'er matter is supreme 
"We gather from so grand a theme ! 

With beauty so minute and fine, 
And grandeur in the whole design ! 
While use, and age, and strength combine, 
The author must be part divine ! 

No chance could ever frame 
A pile so great and gay ! 

It stamps with lasting fame 
Man's intellectual sway 
In pow'r that Matter, Death, nor Fate 
Shall dare attempt t' exterminate. 

And yet his pow'r, departing hence, 

Retires we see not where, nor how ; 
It cheats our dull material sense, 
And vain the search we might bestow ! 
So absolute is mind 

In its peculiar course ; 
Above all mortal kind, 
It claims a higher source : 
Its might supreme will rule at last, 
When all our wondering here is past. 

Thus satisfied, I rest me here. 

And the great Fount of Mind revere ! 

I ask not what it is, nor where ! 

I feel it permeates our sphere ! 

I feel it fire my soul 

"With more than fleshly zeal ! 

It takes me in control ! 
I yield to its appeal ! 
I cannot doubt or scruple more — 
I feel my God, and must adore ! 

Ye saints, who worship at this shrine, 
Must feel an impulse most divine ! 



232 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS 

This beauteous mount of sacred art 
Some great emotions must impart ! — 
Must spur your sluggish love ! 
Must warm your intellect ! 
Must point your thoughts above, 
To the great Architect ! 
Must stir you to revere His Name, 
Whence wisdom, art, and beauty came ! 



THE MINSTER BELLS. 

Written while loalhmg to York Minster, Sunday, July 13th, 1851. 

Hark ! the cheerful Minster bells, 

Pealing forth their sacred sound ! 
Gloriously their music swells 

In majestic notes around ! 
Softly sweet, like angel-whispers, 

Now they gently stir the air ! 
Or like saintly-warbled vespers, 

Quiver from the house of pray'r. 

Often were my childhood's years 

Thus by village bells beguil'd ! 
When this holy day appears, 

I am happy as a child ! 
Happy in the recollections 

Of my blithe and lightsome youth ; 
Happy, too, in good reflections ; 

Happy in the ways of Truth ! 

Oft, ye sacred bells, again, 

When the Sabbath morn we see, 
Cheer the care-worn sons of men 

By your heav'n-born harmony. 
Thus, with partial blessings given, 

We pursue the path of peace, 
Till from earth we grow to heaven, 

Where from cares we gain release. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 233 

TO THE MEMORY 

OP 

HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 

The knell of affection we knoll 

For the hero of valour and fame ! 
Of glory and grace to his soul 

We echo his nation's acclaim ! 

The steel-hearted warrior is gone, 

Compos' d, to his permanent rest ; 
His toilings and warrings are done, 

And his name is embalm'd with the bless' d. 

In the cause of his home, he unsheath'd 

To enemies rank as the sand ; 
His soul but of victory breath' d, 

And like adamant stood to his land. 

When the nations came forth in array, 

Our Wellington nobly arose ; 
Like a gulf, he impeded their way — 

Like a lion, he leap'd on his foes ! 

His mind was capacious and bold ; 

As active as Mercury, too. 
On all that his genius laid hold 

He follow'd with diligence through. 

'Tis the Grod of the universe reigns, 

And governs our militant race ; 
He the cause of the righteous maintains, 

And foils the designs of the base. 

He circles the path of the just, 

When tyrants and rebels assail ; 
And those in their Maker who trust 

Will over the wicked prevail. 

True courage is sent from on high — 

'Tis Heaven provideth the brave ; 
And he may all nations defy 

Who trusts the Almighty to save ! 

x 2 



2o4 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS, 

Our hero, to virtue inspired, 
Believed it his duty to fight ; 

At the name of his foes he was fir'd, 
And met them with confident might. 

He shrunk not, he turn'd not aside, 
When battle grew fearfully fierce ; 

But struggled and dar'd to abide — 
No terrors his courage could pierce. 

He fought for the home of his youth ; 

He fought for the God of his breath ; 
He fought for the succour of Truth ; 

He fought, too, regardless of death. 

His cohorts were firm as a rock ; 

Devoted to all he desir'd ; 
They stood in the bloodiest shock, 

While his enemy charg'd, or retir'd. 

No scheming could draw them away 

To any untimely attack ; 
Nor terror of proudest array 

Could drive them in cowardice back. 

His wisdom surmounted the will, 

And strengthen'd the hopes of his men ; 

When once they had witness'd his skill, 
They ever would trust it again. 

His prudence decided the fight ; 

His vigour remain'd to the last ; 
His tactics were found to be right 

When the struggle for conquest was past. 

The hosts he encounter'd in strife 
Were many, and wilful, and brave ; 

And hence with the glories of life 
He glutted grim death and the grave. 

Whole myriads at once he repell'd 
Of those who impeded his path— 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 235 

A check on their tyranny held, 
And hew'd down the fierce in his wrath. 

Nor courage, nor prudence, alone, 

Distinguish' d his veteran soul ; 
But charity over him shone, 

And held him in kindly control- 
He had pity to succour the slave, 

Who groan'd in political wo ; 
His compassion was active to save 

Whoever in sorrow he saw. 

His condolence, poignant and free, 

Was ready to all the aggriev'd ; 
Whatever their name or degree, 

In the duty to help he believ'd. 

He wept on beholding the field 
Strewn o'er with the wounded and dead ; 

Their woes to his manhood appeal'd, 
And he moum'd for the soldiers who bled. 

His duty to God and to men 

Was all that he dar'd to propound ; 
In ne'er a dispatch of his pen 

Can boasting of glory be found. 

'Twas duty that call'd him to arms, 
And made him unflinchingly staunch ; 

And thro' continents fill'd with alarms 
His war-engines fearlessly launch. 

When the war-god had vented his fume, 
And tyranny crouch'd from the view ; 

When foes would no longer presume 
His warrior steps to pursue ; 

When hardy usurpers no more 

To contest with our guardian would come ; 
When ambition was sated with gore, 

And robbers of nations were dumb ; 



236 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

When demons were taught to resign, 
And own the dominion of peace ; 

And the peaceful were bold to combine, 
Their safety and joy to increase : 

Then settled our hero to rest, 
Nor plunder'd the peaceful inclin'd ; 

But his friends and alliances blest 
By the force of his vigorous mind. 

In council, at home, and abroad 
His projects were own'd to be wise, 

And the rebels who winc'd at his goad 
Ne'er ventur'd his might to despise. 

He shone in the honours of state, 
Like one of celestial birth ; 

His thoughts were unflinchingly great, 
And grew into infinite worth. 

The grasp of his mind was profound ; 

His perception sagacious and clear ; 
His principles honest and sound, 

And his candour for ever sincere. 

His fame is as bright as the sun, 
"With never a speck on its face ; 

The path of fair virtue he run, 
Adorn'd with each brilliant grace. 

The Truth was the star of his course ; 

He faithfully follow'd its light ; 
And nothing his purpose could force 

From what he consider'd was right. 

He struggled in Liberty's aid ; 

He never oppress'd or enslav'd ; 
His promise he never betray'd, 

Nor captiously ever behaVd. 

When mellow'd in glory and years, 
And finish'd his objects of time, 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 237 

He fell as, when autumn appears, 
Do the fruits that are ripen' d and prime. 

To death he came gallantly up, 

And viewed him with placid respect, 
As the friend who should bring him the cup 

That cureth each mortal defect. 

No dismay or affliction he show'd 

At the valley or shadow of death ; 
But faith in salvation avow'd, 

And cheerfully yielded his breath. 

May the heavens annihilate wars, 

And soften the nations to peace ; 
And for troops, and for weapons and scars, 

May the artists of comforts increase. 

But while we have enemies round 

Who seek to deprive us of joy, 
'Tis well that a "Wellington's found, 

So hardy and safe to employ. 

We carry his corpse to the tomb ; 

His nation her mourning puts on ; 
We mock not in sorrowless gloom, 

But grieve that our hero is gone. 

All hail to him ! honour the brave I 

The wreath of affection entwine ; 
With piety circle his grave, 

And build him a glorious shrine. 

When duty is honour' d, we thrive ; 

We sink when these questions ye sever. 
Nurse duty, and keep it alive, 

And England will prosper for ever. 

The knell of affection we knoll 

For the hero of valour and fame ; 
Of glory and grace to his soul 

We echo his nation's acclaim ! 



238 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 



WILLIAM AND ANNA. 

Young William was as brave a tar 

As ever squar'd the yard ; 
Fair Anna was a lovely girl, 

And William's chief regard. 

These two together often pass'd 

A swiftly flying hour, 
And talk'd of most delightful things 

In Love's enchanting bow'r. 

Then o'er the sea young William went, 

To some far foreign port ; 
While mauy swains for Anna vied, 

But none could gain her heart. 

When distant far from him she loVd, 
With many hopes and fears ; 

She still for William waited true 
For three revolving years. 

At last the welcome tidings came, 
The ship was homeward hound ; 

It was resolv'd their meeting, too, 
With nuptials should be crown'd. 

New joy now fiU'd the virgin's heart, 

For news so good as this — 
A joy at thoughts of his return, 

And joy for wedded bliss. 

She waited long with anxious mind 

To see the youth return ; 
At every night a vigil kept, 

And early wak'd at morn. 

One night, well nigh as black as coal 

The sky was clouded dark ; 
And Anna wander'd on the beach, 

To watch for William's bark. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 239 

The stormy winds had risen high, 

The sea began to roar ; 
And awful scenes of terror spread 

Along th' affrighted shore. 

The ocean rolPd a mighty tide, 

In waves of lofty height, 
Which burst with a tremendous dash 

In sheets of snowy white. 

The waters laVd the maiden's feet, 

The sea-fowl scream'd aloud ; 
And thunder burst and lightning stream'd 

Upon the distant cloud. 

Yet Anna's courage did not fail ; 

For self she scarce could care ; 
Her "William all her mind engaged — 

His safety was her prayer. 

She wander'd to and saunter'd fro, 

And pac'd the cold, wet sands ; 
Anon she wept and wildly talk'd, 

And wrung for grief her hands. 

Then close beside the water's edge 

The fair young lover stood, 
And stretch' d her ever- watchful eyes 

Across the stormy flood. 

The elements in fury rag'd, 

And groan' d in heavy war ; 
An angry billow then advanc'd 

O'er all the beach afar. 

And now receding near as fierce, 

Its backward course to urge 
It meets, and fights, and dies away 

Against the coming surge. 

Their strength is spent — now all is still 
Except the noisy gull, 



240 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

And winds that, on the haggard cliff, 
Moan dismal, deep, and dull. 

But ah ! a flash — a gun's report — 

Not far across the wave ; 
A signal sure of keen distress — 

A threat'ning watery grave ! 

She frantic fell flat on the ground, 

Like one depriv'd of life, 
For fear 'twas William's ship that roll'd 

Amid the fluid strife. 

At length, with water drench' d, she rose, 

And incoherent talk'd ; 
Then shrieking ran along the strand, 

Then silent pensive walk'd. 

The moon then lent a feeble light — 

She saw a vessel nigh ; 
And when the waters hush'd awhile, 

For help she heard them cry. 

But helpers none could there be found 
The wretched tars to save, 

While to the dreadful shore they drove 
Before the bursting wave 

Now Anna's fears were realiz'd — 
For help her William cried ; 

Stung with the sound, she fearless ran 
Against the angry tide. 

But fierce and strong the billows came, 
And threw her on the ground — 

With fury drove her up and down, 
Then left her almost drown' d. 

She laid awhile ; then rose again, 

But only to despair : 
She raVd, and, like a mania c ? 

Tore out her curly hair. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 241 

Meanwhile the ship was drifting fast 

Amid the surfy white — 
Dismasted and in great distress — 

Now coming fan in sight. 

The tempest drove her on the rocks, 

And wash'd along her deck ; 
Her stern-post rose, her planks gave way, 

And soon she went to wreck. 

And then the few remaining hands 

All overboard were wash'd ; 
And most against the sturdy rocks 

To instant death were dash'd. 

But William, with some other two, 

Escap'd, on floating wood, 
Out from the very jaws of death — 

Out from the gaping flood. 

And Anna now, renerv'd to see 

Her youth so near at hand, 
Plung'd straight again among the waves, 

To help him safe to land. 

They met — embrac'd — and wept for joy, 

And, hast'ning to the shore, 
Suppos'd and hop'd that surely now 

Their dangers must be o'er. 

Exhausted much with straggling long, 

They sat them down awhile ; 
Each fondled and each other hugg'd, 

Their sorrows to beguile. 

Then soon they rose to go away, 

For both were cold and wet ; 
But oh ! the sea had ran so high, 

They could not forward get ! 

On every side they strove to flee, 
But could not make escape ; 



242 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

They could not climb the frightful cliff, 
Nor double round the cape. 

New horror seiz'd their panting breasts, 
New pam, new care, new fear ; 

Because the tide was flowing fast, 
And was already near. 

They call'd for help with all their might, 
But none could them befriend ; 

So then they waited patiently 
To meet then- tragic end ! 

They mounted on the stranded wreck, 
The billows drove them thence ; 

Then in a cleft far in a rock 
They sought their last defence. 

But all was vain ! — the tide still rose, 
And found them even there ; 

And death appear'd before the morn 
To William and his fair. 

Next day the life-boat came to take 

A boy from off the cliff ; 
Then these two lovers both were found 

Lifeless, and cold, and stiff ! 

As they but for each other liv'd, 

In death they parted not ; 
But, lock'd within each other's arms, 

They shar'd an equal lot. 

Then both in one deep grave were laid, 
Beneath one hillock green, 

"Where maids and youths oft tell their tale, 
And some in tears are seen ! 

And thus all creature comforts fail, 
"While sorrow takes their place ; 

Then happy he whose soul relies 
On sweet supernal grace ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 243 

THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE RABBIT-TRAP. 

A subtle philosopher, fill'd with devotion 
To old Madam Nature, was strolling about, 

To pick up examples to strengthen some notion, 
To build up his faith, or unravel some doubt. 

His vision about Hcrba viva in plants 

Up to a voluptuous mania grew ; 
And while in the field to himself he descants, 

A jolly young gamekeeper came to his view. 

Then he to the keeper expounded his plan 

For to make vegetation from nothing arise, 
And then from the plants to create him a man, 

And of vapours to form the great lights of the skies. 
He told him of op'ning and closing of flow'rs, 

As in chickweed, and pansy, and many beside, 
At the coming of eve, or the falling of show'rs, 

Which shows him they've sense for themselves to provide- 

The trap-fly he prais'd to enormous excess, 
For the perfect sensation its nature displays ; 

Its sense of perception, he thought, was no less 
Than man's cogitation or wisdom conveys 

The keeper, surmising the sage was in jest, 

With jesting replied, that he always conceiv'd 
That the hardest of matter with sense is impress'd — 

That rock, earth, and metals have life, he belieVd. 
The wise man, delighted with doctrines like those, 

Could show vegetation possess'd a prepense, 
But wanted a proof that the metals have laws 

Of action that manifest wisdom and sense ; 
And prayingly ask'd of the keeper, if he 

Could find an example that metals can feel ! 
The wag, much delighted such wisdom to see, 

Declar'd he could show a sensation in steel ! 

He said that a trap was not far on the dike, 

By which he could prove the assertion he made ; 

But an object he saw, and a shot he should like ; 
So the trial must be for a moment delay' d. 



!44 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

Th' impatient philosopher could not be still — 

To hold his emotions in check was in vain ; 
The thought of the whole of his wish to fulfil 

Completely o'erturn'd and bewilder'd his brain. 
Instinctive uneasiness haul'd him along, 

Altho' he knew naught of the steel or the trap ; 
He felt that to walk a bit could not be wrong, 

And something of pleasure befall him might hap. 
By the fortune of blunders, the trap he espied, 

And, knowing that iron and steel are akin, 
He thought that it must be the thing to be tried, 

And so he resolv'd on the test to begin. 

He tried with his nail for to make it to flinch ; 

Then poked with his penknife the handle and spring,; 
To do it completely he spar'd not an inch, 

To see if't would move, but it did no such thing ! 
Advancing still onward, the clapper he prick'd ! 

And the trap struck his finger ! my stars, how he 
scream'd ! 
He wriggl'd, curs'd, flounder' d, and merrily kick'd, 

As tho' in a hornpipe at dancing he seem'd ! 
But the trap was tenacious, its teeth were so good ; 

Nor knew he to loose it by pressing the spring ; 
And lo ! he grew frantic at sight of his blood ! 

And the woods and the valleys of murder did ring ! 
The keeper, alarm'd at the cries of the sage, 

Ran quick for to give his assaulter a rap ; 
But laugh'd when he found out the cause of his rage, 

And quietly let the wise man from the trap ! 

Then read him a lesson of wisdom and sense, 

And matter and motion he never had scann'd ; 
And taught him how foolish and vain the pretence 

For one to presume to what none understand ! 
What folly to judge what the Maker design'd 

By objects we never by half comprehend ; 
More reason there is in employing the mind 

To higher- born wisdom our souls to commend. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 245 

The philosopher curs'd the sensation of steel, 

And swore the trap-makers should give up their trade 

Or print on the metals the temper they neal, 
That wise men might never again be betray'd ! 

The keeper, deriding him, laugh'd at the joke, 
And said that if rabbit-traps put him to doubt, 

That sure, till more wisdom upon him had broke, 
There may be a God whom he couldn't trace out ! 



THE WAY OP ALL. 

I've seen the haughty and the gay, 
The mighty and the proud, 

In all their glory yesterday — 
To-day beneath the shroud ! 

I've seen the war-man all so bold, 
Who dar'd to fight the brave ; 

And both now stretch'd out icy cold, 
Waiting the gaping grave. 

I've seen the infant from the womb, 

Unfolding fairest charms, 
Depriv'd at once of all its bloom, 

And lock'd in death's stiff arms. 

I've seen the giant fierce and great, 
Whose eyes flash'd streaks of fire ; 

One moment strong and all elate, 
And in the next expire. 

And so the human race must die — 

'Tis all our nature's lot : 
Then, reader ! so must you and I 

Depart and be forgot. 

But he whose soul is favour'd most 
With grace, and truth, and love, 

Still lives when other names are lost, 
And him will God approve ! 

y 2 



246 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

TO A LOOKING-GLASS. 
Thou beautiful mirror, thou splendid old glass, 

That hangs by the parlour wall, 
How surely as round thee we frequently pass 

We give thee a courteous call. 

The truest of pictures are painted by thee ; 

Their faithfulness all must believe ; 
Tho' oft in thy portraits such features we see 

As give us occasion to grieve. 
Thou worthy preceptor, of duty the gauge, 

That shows when on truth we encroach ; 
How beauty departeth, in sorrow or rage ; 

Or the countenance sinks with debauch. 
How truly thou serveth the ladies who wear 

Fine carmine or rouge on the cheek ; 
Who practise how best they can seem to be fair — 

How their lips shall look witching and meek ! 

Thou knowest the fop who, with brushes and oil, 

And with curling-tongs trimmeth his hair ; 
Who, in pinning his neckerchief taketh much toil, 

And trains his mustaches to pair ! 
The best and the loveliest take thy advice, 

To know how their beauty will charm ; 
For, in primming and looking all daiaty and nice, 

The gravest believe is no harm. 
Th' old maiden, despairing, consulteth thy plate 

At her failings to have just a peep ! 
And tries all her art for reversing her fate, 

Tho' her wrinkles are many and deep ! 
The children before thee in merriment daUce, 

Well pleas' d with thy mimicing face ; 
And folks of much wisdom oft give thee a glance, 

To look for some manlier grace ! 
When cankering care is destroying the brave, 

By eating his life to the core, 
He may find in his mirror an object so grave 

As should warn him from bleeding too sore. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 247 

The foolish and vain, if they had hut the sense, 

From thee might their foolishness learn ; 
Coquetters and triflers, whate'er their pretence, 

In thee may find wages to earn. 
Each turn that we happen to look in a glass, 

The progress of Time we may trace ; 
The records of days and of months, as they pass, 

Are deeply engrav'd on thy face. 
To all thy disciples I know thou art true — 

No flattery hast thou to give ; 
And those who with wisdom thy lessons pursue 

May mark in thee how they should live. 



THE GRAVE. 
( Translated from the German of Salis.) 
How deep and silent is the grave ; 

Its brink is horrid, too ; 
And, covering with a veil, it hides 

An unknown land from view. 
The songs of nightingales are not 

"Within its bosom known ; 
And only on the moss-grown hill, 

Are Friendship's roses thrown.* 
Forsaken brides may wring in vain 

Their hands, and sorely weep ; 
Nor can the orphan's wailings pierce 

Into the earthy deep. 
Yet in no other place abides 

The still expected rest ; 
By this dark door alone we reach 

A home supremely blest. 
The poor heart here below, so oft 

With tempests ruffled o'er, 
Can only there true peace obtain, 

Where it shall beat no more ! 

* Alluding to the custom of throwing and of planting flowers on the 
grave, as the only means of intercourse with the departed friend. 



248 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS 

A COUPLE OF GHOSTS. 

Of ghosts and of witches, of sprites and of magic, 
I've heard much related, both comic and tragic — 

In doctrinal error and blind superstition — 
Of folly and madness, both doggrel and attic, 

That rose out of darkness and ride on tradition. 

Just one illustration before me now rises 

That shows the true ground of the ghostly surprises. 

The scene was a village — the time about midnight, 
When a miller, half madden'd with drink that comprises 

So much of the spirit that dazzles the eyesight, 

Had, on his way homeward, now stumbled and stagger'd 
So far from his path as to stray thro' a stackyard ; 

A sweep for his bed in the straw was laid sleeping, 
And just as the miller roam'd forward and backward, 

The sweeper came forth to go after his sweeping. 

The strangers discover'd each other with wonder, 
And roar'd out in terror like pealings of thunder ; 

The sky was so dark that they could not see fairly — 
They stupified stood about ten yards asunder 

A moment or two, and then scamper'd off rarely ! 

The miller struck out at a desperate pace ! 
And Sooty, unknowingly, gave him the chase ! 

For he mounted his ass to escape in affright, 
And gallop'd away, as tho' running a race, 

Straight after John Windmill all in the dark night ! 

Poor Johnny soon heard the approach of the ass ! 
Yet terrified so, he could not let him pass ; 

But ran with more speed to get out of the sight ; 
Tho' speed was all vain, for the donkey, alas ! 

Soon reach'd the swift heels of John Dusty, the white ! 

The heroes discover'd each other once more, 
And both were tormented e'en worse than before, 

But donkey went nimbly, and soon they were parted, 
Or both might have fainted when troubled so sore ; 

They could not have run, they were so cow-hearted, 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 249 

The sweeper, by fortune, arriVd at an inn, 
Dismounted and shelter' d, and told the good host 
How he " had been chas'd by a horrible ghost, 
" That came," he believed, " to accuse him of sin, 
" In drinking the whole of his earnings in gin ! 
" 'Twas dress'd in a garment of glistening white, 
" And was, altogether, the horrent est sight !" 

The miller then quickly, and nigh out of breath, 
Come running and panting, half frighted to death, 

And said to the landlord, " I saw a black elf 
" Start quick as the lightning out from the earth, 

" And I think it was surely old Satan himself ! 

" A monster of darkness from head down to foot, 
" And, sure as I breathe, he was blacker than soot : 

" His eyes were like saucers, so big and so round — 
"Now open'd and blazing, then darken'd and shut ; 

" And his voice was the hollowest, dismalest sound !" 

The company detected the ghosts of such terror 
And laughter gave vent to their thoughts on the error ; 
The terrible monsters were prov'd to be men, 
Who vow'd not to make such a blunder again. 



WITCHCRAFT. 

0, ye say that the witches are dead, 
And that fairies are only a dream ! 

But, by Jove, I'm in terrible dread 

There are witches yet more than ye deem ! 

And if you with my Sylvia meet, 
She will fascinate you of your breath ; 

While her voice will entangle your feet, 
And her eyes will transfix you like death. 

This is witchcraft ! or what is it, then ? 

As I breathe now, its might I confess ! 
For the Nymphs have this charm over men ! 

It is witchery ! What is it less ? 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE. 

Gay little flower ! 
I hail thee with delight ! 

And near my garden hower 
Will plant thee in my sight, 
That I may see thy beauty there, 
Bud forth so early, fresh, and fair. 

Herald of spring ! 
Of vernal blossoms first, 

Thou art a pretty thing 
As ever Nature nurs'd. 
Thy lessons, too, are all so fine, 
I freely wish thy graces mine. 

Of beauty full, 
So fair, and sweet, and clean, 

The children love to pull 
Thy yellow and thy green ; 
And well they may, for thou art such, 
That thou canst grace their posies much. 

With modesty 
Thou art for ever crown' d, 

Where'er thy form we see 
Come peeping from the ground, 
In some far distant, lonely glen, 
Remotest from the haunts of men. 

Humility 
Thou hast, tho' rich and neat, 

From lofty tow'ring free, 
Thou grow'st beneath our feet ; 
Nor once we see thee rise so high, 
As with the stronger roots to vie. 

Thy patience more 
We find, than we can learn 

From field or garden store, 
By river or by tarn ; 
Thou strugglest hard with frost and snow 
Thy cheering little head to show. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 251 

Nor when deflower'd, 

Dost thou revenge the deed 

Or slily stab the coward, 

And make his fingers bleed, — 

As do the whin, the brier, rose, 

And hawthorn blossoms, to their foes. 

Gay little flower ! 
I love thy every charm : 

Tho' small, thou hast the power 
Mine inmost soul to warm ; 
And may thy type of graces give 
To me a lesson how to live. 



MORNING JOYS. 

How joyous is the early morn, 
"When first it blushes o'er the sea, 

Or peeps across the mountain tops, 
Or brightens up the stretching lea. 

So sweet the breeze, so bright the sky, 

So peaceable is eveiy scene ; 
It seems as tho' the bliss of heaven 

Was stealing thro' the veil between. 

The morning traveller feels the joy ; 

His mind expands with godlike pow'r ; 
And hence the young to wisdom grow, 

And age maintains its youthful flow'r, 

If sluggards knew the health and sense 
Which early blooming morning yields, 

They would forsake the foetid bed, 
To ramble through the smiling fields. 

Arise ! arise ! ye sluggards, rise ! 

Imbibe the ambrosia, while the dew 
Like diamonds hangs, and from this fount 

Of life your energies renew ! 



Yl MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

VERNAL IMPULSE. 

Written while walking from Eaxby to Strensall, on Swnday, 
April 15th, 1852. 

Another spring inspires our sphere ! 

A new creation shines around ! 
All nature hails the opening year, 

And feels her life with bliss rebound. 
The rays of light reflective shine 

Like one vast mirror thro' the air, 
And seem to say the Pow'rs Divine 

Are breathing, smiling eVrywhere. 
The vegetative fluids wake 

To run and prosper gloriously, 
And untold myriad blossoms break 

In eVry hue of fair degree. 
All animated creatures bound 

With new-born energy along — 
"With gambols play the plain around, 

And fill the groves with varied song. 
'Tis man alone a sadness wears ! 

His features bear a threat'ning scowl, 
Which well betrays the load of cares 

That canker round his graceless soul. 
For shame ! dull man, why should't thou mar 

This bliss wherewith creation swells ? 
No soul, if rightly tun'd, could jar 

Where nature's choir of music dwells. 
No doubt mankind have made thee smart, 
And thrown their briers o'er thy path — 
Have shot their arrows to thy heart, 
And often spurr'd thee into wrath. 
Yet cheer thee up, for God is kind ! 

These beauteous scenes to thee he grants 
To solace all thy tortur'd mind, 

And yield redress to all thy wants ! 
Wouldst thou survey His marks of grace ? 
They far exceed thy art to count ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

From ev'ry point o'er nature's face 
His blessings grow to vast amount ! 

Repine for wretchedness no more ! 

Ten thousand bounteous gifts are thine 
Grateful receive them, and adore 

The Pow'r that makes them so divine ! 



THE ROSE BUSH. 
Once in my little garden stood 

A rose bush, fresh and strong ; 
And on it came a fine large bud 

Before the others long. 
Anon it was an open flower, 

Ting'd with a beauteous dye ; 
And oft I sat within my bower, 

To feast on it mine eye. 
Then other roses soon were seen 

In modest lovely blush ; 
But still the first one was the queen 

Of all upon the bush. 
The sun and rain their succour lent, 

To keep it in the bloom ; 
But now its head was downward bent, 

As though it mourn'd its doom. 

Then, 0, my rose was in the morn 

Soil'd on the miry ground ; 
Of all its gay enchantments shorn, 

And with the raining drown' d. 
Anxious the pretty charm to save, 

I snatch'd it from its bed ; 
But, with the snatch, it to its grave 

Fell all asunder dead. 

Mark me ! ye young in rosy bloom ! 

Thus is the race of man, 
As from the cradle to the tomb 

We hurry through the span. 



254 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE OLD YEAR AND HIS FRIENDS. 

On the last of December, the jolly Old Year, 

Advancing apace like a warrior brave, 
All jaded and wrinkled, yet noble in mien, 

Came rallying round to the brink of his grave. 

A multitude vast had assembled to see 

This steady old pilgrim advance to his tomb ; 
And the church bells were ringing to hurry him off, 

Aud apprize the good saint of his doom. 
When Death, with his sickle, had join'd in the throng, 

All seem'd to be fit for the funeral rite ; 
But the moment to pass was the mid of the night, 

And the meeting was waiting to witness the sight. 

Now, famous old Time, with his hoary fine locks, 

In the prime of full vigour appear'd on the stage, 
And presented accounts of the people around, 

With their seasons and deeds on each opposite page. 
And while Time and old Death were perusing the book, 

Th' Old Year had a moment, it seems, for to spare, 
And announcing his fate with an air of delight, 

Address'd a few words to the multitude there. 
"You have had me," said he, "for a twelvemonth of space, 

" And I bid you farewell before crossing the bourne ; 
" I've been your true friend, and my season is pass'd, 

" So now ever farewell ! for I cannot return ! 
"Youhave scorn'dme,andcurs'd bothmy days andmynights; 

"You've constrain'd me to witness yourturmoils and wars ; 
"You have slighted my counsel that call'd you to love, 

"And have wounded me oft (and he show'd them his scars) ; 
" Well ! but now you repent for the evil you've done," 

" And seem to lament our acquaintance must cease ! 
" But remember the vows which you made me at first ; 

" Yet I will not reproach you ; I leave you my peace ! 
" You will court my successor with holy pretence ; 

" But will change with the seasons, and shun what is right, 
" Oh, I give you my charge — use him better than me, 

"And adieu ! all adieu ! I am going ! good night !" 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 255 

Now while the Old Year was addressing the throng, 
Grim Death had examin'd the books of old Time — 

Had drawn out his balance, and weighed the space 
For the infant and ag'd, and the man in his prime ! 

Then Diseases came up, of all features and names, 
To ask for employ, and old Death set them on ; 

And quick they advanc'd thro' the whole of the mass, 
And stood to the post where their work must be done ! 

Apoplexy at once cut the vigorous down ; 

"While Fevers stole quietly into the frame ; 
Consumption made nests in the core of the fair, 

And Dropsy o'erloaded the sire and the dame. 

Great numbers were blighted to death in their bloom, 
And many were taken from cradles when young ; 

The grey-headed miser, with gold in his grasp, 
By a famish' d-worn demon was hurried along ! 

The Old Year had run off while they none had observ'd, 
Till the New in full glee was seen bouncing along ! 

Then they greeted the youth with their mirth and their smile s 
With the ringing of bells, and with music and song ! 

The Old Year was a friend to the last ! but he's gone ; 

While Diseases and Death have come over to this. 
May no evil betide us ! may we hive to be good ! 

And the New Year be fuller of duty and bliss. 



THE POWER OF HOPE. 

Fair Hope bestows, all clear and bright, 

The heav'nly, soft, directing ray 
To cheer us on, thro' sorrow's night, 

With promises of glorious day ! 
The night of heavy boding ill 

Shall surely not for ever last ; 
But in the turn of seasons will, 

Like other evils, soon be past. 
Then we will cheerly cling to Hope, 

And speed our boat with pressing sail ! 
With all our trials bravely cope, 

And so, in hope, outride the gale ! 



-.')<: MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

MIND UNGOVERNABLE BY MONEY. 

Mind and money are at strife — 

Cash Avould the dominion claim ; 
Mind is for the struggle rife, 

Always laughing wealth to shame. 
Mind and money ill agree — 

Scarcely can their wills unite ; 
Oft we may their variance see ; 

Seldom both are in the right. 
See the money-making man ! 

How he would one's mind control — 
Using all the pow'rs he can 

O'er the freedom of the soul. 
Yet this cash may cease to strive ; 

Mind will never yield or quail : 
Virtue keeps it still alive, 

Tho' the solid earth should fail. 
Cease, ye treacherous tyrants, then — 

Plan no more your foul deceit ; 
Trample not on worthy men, 

Tho' they fall beneath your feet ? 
Wealth shall cease and be no more, 

While the mind outlives the grave, 
Smiling thro' the trying hour, 

When your riches cannot save ! 
Then, ye surly men of gold, 

Strive no more the poor to bind ; 
Tho' their failings ye behold, 

They can scorn your sordid mind. 

Thought shall live when worlds expire : 

None have pow'r its course to turn ! 
Naught shall quench its mighty fire ! 

Naught shall make it fail to burn ! 
Cease, then, Mammon ! cease thy strife ! 

Cash shall never conquer thought ! 
Thou wilt only sour the life 

That with joy would else be fraught ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 257 

MY HIGHLAND LOVE.— A SONG. 

The heather bells are blooming gay 

Along the mountain-brow ; 
My Highland lassie, come away ! 

Let's go a rambling now ! 

"We'll wander thro' the brooky dales, 

And o'er the heathy hills, 
To talk of love and pleasant tales, 

While joy all nature fills. 

Our short-liv'd youth is worn with care ; 

All creatures else are gay ; 
Then, cast thy gloom, look smiling fair, 

Be mine, and come away ! 



NIGHT AND MORNING. 

When Night's dark drapery from the East 

Withdraws across the sky, 
How swiftly heavenly sprites of light 

O'er the creation fly ! 

Sweet virgin Morn comes blushing forth, 
And off old Darkness creeps ; 

All Nature, with elastic bound, 
Up from her night-couch leaps ! 

Then mellow songs and gambols gay 

The orient maiden greet ! 
And flowers and fruits of myriad hues 

Spring up around her feet ! 

Off now she dances, up and down 

Across our hemisphere ; 
And men, and maids, and children vie 

To rival her career ! 

But, past us once, she quickly flies, 
And leaves us thro' the West ! 

Then, while she's here, improve her hour, 
Whereof we're all possess'd. 



2o8 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

EXHUMATION.— A FRAGMENT. 

I pray thee tell me, Sexton, of these bones — 
Are they the relics of the Erin, Scot, 
Or English, Welsh, or Negro, Russ', or Frank ? 
In which, of all the numerous tribes of man, 
Were these now mould'rhig mortal fragments born, 
Nurtur'd, and rear'd ? 

I know not, answer'd he, 
That in the erudition of the tombs 
There's any sign whereby we may perceive 
This national materiality ! 
Tribes liken tribes ; all of the genus man 
Partake of universal characters 
In equal heritage and equal laws — 
One universal lot is Death's domain J 
No nation'l banners here — no whites or blacks I 
These costce*, humeri, and vertebras ; 
And e'en these ossa temporalia, 
With the distinctive, godlike frontis, too ! 
In all appearance are the same in shape, 
In substance, and in virtue : naught besides 
In all the ghostly skeleton descries 
A mark distinctive, save the cranium, some 
Of wit presumptive would persuade themselves 
Is in one race more high, or broad, or long : 
But if the warrior-bones of Waterloo 
Were all exhum'd, 'twould be a weary task, 
I ween, to sort in various heaps the skulls 
Of all the several nations — English, Scotch ? 
French, Irish, Hanoverian Gentlemen, 
The Prussian, and all else whom battle slew. 

Then hast thou found, ask'd the inquiring friend., 
The marks of regal bones — Plantagenet, 
Tudor, or Stuart, or the Brunswick line, 
Bourbon, Pacha, or Russian autocrat ? 

* Costce, ribs ; humeri, arm-bones joining the shoulder; vertebrae, the 
joints of the back ; ossa temyoralia, the temple-bones ; osfrontis, the fore 
skull. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHOUT POEMS. 259 

I ken not, said the humble man, which bones 
Have borne a crown or sceptre, or which else 
Have dug or reap'd, or forc'd the weary beast 
In daily toil of menial services : 
Death heeds not the regalia of kings, 
Nor scans your princely 



THE FAIRY ROSE.— A SONG. 

I know a beauteous fairy rose, 

That smiles in Fairy Dale ; 
The fairest rose creation knows 
Is that of Fairy Dale. 

Chorus — 0, bless the beauteous fairy rose, 
That blooms in Fairy Dale ; 
The fairest rose creation knows 
Is that of Fairy Dale ! 

Its lips are sweet with honey dew, 

Distilling rich and clear ; 
'Tis downy soft, of rosy hue : 

Is not this rose a dear ? 

Chorus. — 0, bless, foe. 

By wooing smile, and witching wile, 

That might a tyrant sway, 
This fairy rose doth me beguile, 

And bear my soul away ! 

Chorus. — 0, bless, &c. 

But scarce I dare to touch this flow'r, 

Lest I its beauty stain ; 
And yet 'twill languish in its bow'r, 

If I my love refrain. 

Chorus. — 0, bless, foe. 

Ye heav'ns protect my fairy rose 

From every hurtful doom ! 
Let no foul hand, or wind that blows, 

Defile its virgin bloom ! 

Chorus, — 0, bless, &c. 



!60 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE HEARTH FIRE. 

Written on the Whitby Moors. 

The hearth fire ! see ! the blazing hearth — 

The plan of ancient days ! 
Joy to the hot, the level hearth, 
Where glows the cheerful blaze ! 

Chorus. — Where coal, or turf, or peat 
Imparts a cheerful heat ! 
When thro' the cold I wander forth, 

Half perish'd with the storm, 
I long to see the blazing hearth 
Its daily work perform. 

Chorus. — Where coal, &c. 
When visiting great folks of worth, 

Steel polish' d stoves I see ; 
Yet, after all, the blazing hearth 
Is the best fire for me. 

Chorus. — Where coal, &c. 
Give me the hearths that daily serve 

To warm my legs and feet ; 
Where earth-made fires they still preserve, 
To me a constant treat. 

Chorus. — Where coal, &c. 
Give me the hearth where, homely gay, 

We sit the circle round, 
And talk and quaff the storm away. 
Till all our care is drown'd. 

Chorus. — Where coal, <fec. 



SPRING. 
Spring has return'd with lively train, 
Eunning abroad o'er hill and plain, 
Loos'ning the earth from Winter's chain, 

All hail ! young Spring ! 
Up to the budding fields away, 
While the sweet blush of opening day 
Paints the far east superbly gay, 

To grace the Spring. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 261 

Winter no longer now can keep 
Nature laid dormant by a sleep ; 
Life from the clod begins to peep, 

To greet the Spring ! 
All the great pow'rs of mother earth 
Labour to bring in prosp'rous birth, 
Innocent joy, and harmless mirth, 

To bless the Spring. 
Look ! how the crocus, buttercup, 
Daisy so fair, and snow-blanch'd drop 
Out from their beds are rising up 

To see the Spring. 
Birds, that of late with rough winds fought, 
Sweetly now stretch each little throat — 
Whistling aloud the mellow note 

To cheer the Spring. 
Rooks have begun their nests to build ; 
Cattle are straying in the field, 
Feeding on what the valleys yield — 

The fruits of Spring. 
Rise, now, ye sluggards, as ye need ; 
Break up the fallow, rake the weed, 
Harrow and bury well your seed, 

To grow in Spring. 
Up to the fields, before the Sun 
Hath his resplendent course begun, 
Labour to get the field-work done 

In joyous Spring, 
Up, all ye pleasure-seeking throng, 
Lovers of beauty or of song, 
Early run forth the fields among, 

To taste of Spring, 
Fairest of beauties now are seen, 
Down in the vale that lies between 
Highlands of pretty budding green, 

The tints of Spring. 
Nature's best harmonies are heard — 
Songs of the ploughboy and of bird 
Echo delight for bliss conferred 

On them in Spring. 
Welcome, young Spring ! with lively train, 
Run yet abroad o'er hill and plain, 
Loos'ning the earth from Winter's chain, 

All hail ! young Spring I 



262 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

TO THE RISING SUN. 

All hail ! orb divine ! celestial sphere ! 
What glory is mine when thou dost appear ! 
Thou bounty of heaven, o'erflowing with beauty 
To mortals art given to win them to duty. 

Thy gorgeous sky, all enamell'd with gold, 
Is too bright for the eye of a man to behold : 
Thy whole hemisphere is enwrapp'd in a blaze 
So grandly severe as to torture the gaze. 

The dusky old night sneaketh off to the west, 
Avoiding thy light as the foe of his rest. 
Well ! he and his crimes may pass o'er the bourne, 
To other dark climes, and never return ! 

But thou, blessed Sun ! with glory divine, 
In goodness go on — in majesty shine ! 
Ambrosial dew by thee is distill' d, 
All nature made new, and with harmony fill'd. 

Then teach me to sip at thy nectarine bowl ; 
For each touch of the lip will enliven the soul : 
And hence shall my heart, beating high in its joy, 
Perform well its part, and thy blessings employ, . 

They tell me a blemish is found in thy face, 
In spots that diminish thy lustre and grace. 
Yet let me but live to perfection like thine. 
And glory shall give me a portion divine ! 

But when is the hour thy presence no more, 
In heav'nly pow'r, shall visit this shore ? 
And when is the day that Chaos shall gain 
His primitive sway o'er this earthly domain ? 



So glorious thou ! thy Maker how great ! 
Sure no man can know his perfect estate. 
His hand is efficient that fix'd thee on high 
And vision omniscient belongs to His eye ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 263 

0, may I procure his wisdom and might, 

And then I am sure of all that is right. 

Then planets may shake, and suns may expire ; 

And earth, too, may quake, or be swallow'd in fire : 

For, safe with my Maker, no foe can annoy ; 

He'll make me partaker of heavenly joy ! 



MEETING OF FRIENDS. 

All hail ! old friends ! again we meet 
As oft before we've done • 

In times now distant run, 
Far, far away. 
'Tis always joyous, always sweet, 
Our old acqaintances to greet, 
If hearts have stood unchang'd, 
And friendship underang'd, 
When far away. 

But oft old Time our friendship tries, 
And, with sulphureous breath, 
Blasts down in cruel death 
The blooming flower. 
Sometimes foul demon-thoughts arise, 
And change the once propitious eyes, 
That us'd to beam with light 
So soft, so sweet, so bright, 
In friendship's hour. 

Forgive the thought, and may I find 
No cause for fear or pain, 
From friendship false and vain, 
To mar my rest : 
But may its fairest blossoms thrive, 
And keep the social joys alive, 
Till peace and truth are shed, 
And amity is spread, 
Thro' every breast ! 



264 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE TONGUE. 
Say what you may, the Muse will sing 
The tongue, the tongue, that wondrous thing- 
That little instrument, with skill 
For mighty deeds of good or ill ; 
Tho' chief it finds enjoyment sweet 
In any vile, ungodly feat. 
It has a shield, a snare, or sword 
Possess'd in but an airy word ; 
A weapon sharp, that dashes down 
More armies than the sword has known. 
Foul scandal-tongue can make its way 
Thro' paths unseen by night or day : 
Not terror'd by the noonday light, 
Nor by the sable velvet night ; 
Nor by a single scene deterr'd — 
'Tis ever felt or ever heard. 
Whirlwind confusion oft 'twill rise, 
And e'en assault the lofty skies ; 
Deluge the earth in error's wo, 
And every ill that mortals know — 
As famine, battle, human blood, 
And death to some who have withstood 
Evils in every other form, 
From Halcyon's calm to the wild storm : 
But none can tell how great a hurt 
May rise from tongues of wicked sort. 
When schemes of words are deeply laid, 
Most watchful objects are betray'd ; 
But most we need to watch and fear, 
Lest lurking danger should be near, 
When flatterers rise with smoothen'd face, 
All grandly dress' d in borrow'd grace. 

Seek not the rostrum or the bar 
Effective eloquence to hear, 
For arguments persuasive, strong, 
Are most upon that wicked tongue, 
That gives itself — its life away, 
To hurt, defame, tempt, or betray 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 265 

By formidable wiles and deeds, 
So mischievous, it far exceeds 
Description's artful pen to draw 
A picture true of tongue-born wo ! 

If to your closet you repair, 
And live in strict seclusion there, 
Yet slander will be on you hurl'd, 
And gossips preach you to the world. 
They'll guess your darkest secrets out, 
And tell their mates what you're about. 
Some barbarous tongue will spoil your name, 
And shave and clip away your fame. 

How much should youths watch o'er their feet, 
Lest such destructive foe they meet ; 
And let maturer man beware, 
Lest he should fall by such a snare. 



THE PASSING STORM. 
wilder a small "turf -rook," on the Fylingdales High Moor 
during a severe snow shower, October 17th, 1848. 

Here on a wild, uncultur'd moor, 

While pelting storms are raging high, 
I sit until the gale is o'er, 

And watch the angry cloud sweep by. 
No shelter but the stunted heather ! 

No canopy except the sky ! 
Expos'd to all the bitter weather ! 

No friend or habitation nigh \ 

And yet at these I'll not repine, 

For Providence hath sent them so ; 
And soon the sun again will shine, 

And more congenial prospects show. 
Eepining is a curse indeed, 

That fills us with untimely grief ; 
But firm content oft helps our need, 

And brings our sorrows much relief. 



26G MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

QUARRELS. 

Addressed to a Friend after a slight contention. 

Why should we quarrel for a little, 
And break the bands which Friendship ties ? 

Why should we jar about a tittle, 
And fill with tears each other's eyes ? 

Why do we not to Wisdom listen, 
And wisely learn and wisely do, 

Rather than every prospect ruisten 
By words perverse, and wicked too ? 

Is Friendship to us such a trifle, 

That we regard it as the dust, 
And every thought of candour stifle 

Against the things we know are just ? 

Why careful hold our angry tinder 
Beneath each falling spark of spleen ? 

Then light the torch and rake the cinder, 
To kindle fires intensely keen ? 

Ah ! let us shame to be for ever 
In burning rage for little things, 

And through the future, never, never 
Our Friendship wound with poison'd stings. 

Nay, let us be each other's blessing, 
And strive to sweeten life with peace, 

That we may live such joys possessing 
As must the bliss of Friends increase. 



MADAM FLIMSY. 

Young Madam Flimsy was a wit, 
Whose beauty all would prize ; 

The Fops would boast how they had lit 
Cigars at her sweet eyes ! 

She was a peacock in attire 
Most lovely, gay, and smart ; 

Her voice, like music from the lyre, 
Could charm the stubborn heart. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 267 

Love conquests many she had made, 

Yet bid them all adieu, 
Supposing that her flirting trade 

Her pleasures would renew. 
But, thro' coquetry, show, and pride, 

She was the common jest ; 
None with the blessings of a bride 

Would give her wishes rest. 
At last, when scorn'd by eVry swain, 

With pride all mortified, 
She found her flirting all was vain, 

And, broken-hearted, died ! 

So all ye maids who would be wives, 

Be not too proud or vain ; 
Or you will thro' your future lives 

Be what all men disdain. 
Let modesty and virgin truth 

Be all your souls' pretence, 
To show the vainly flirting youth 

That you have better sense. , 



SONNET TO EARLY WINTER. 

Written in Fylingdales, October IStli, 1848, during severe N.E. 
wmd and snow. 

What meanest thou, fierce Winter, thus to cast, 

Untimely, on the trembling elements 
Thy furious wrath, thy penetrating blast 

And swollen clouds, that scatter their contents 
Wide o'er the face of the astonish'd land, 

Till poor bewilder'd men the issue fear, 
And, pall'd amid their daily labour, stand 

To wonder why these early storms appear ? 
Return, stern guest ! to thy dark, dreary North, 

Where frosts and snows perennially toil 
To charge thy stores ! Man yet should ramble forth 

To gather in his fruits and till his soil ! 
These done ! then come, with all thy frigid wealth, 
To cleanse the earth, and brace our lives with health. 



268 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE FORSAKEN SHIP. 

A Sea Song. 

Oh ! what is yon black speck I see 

On the horizon view afar ? 
0, can it be the late wild storm 

Has wreck' d some brave old British tar ? 
Compassion seizes all my pow'rs, 

And draws my tender feelings up : 
I grieve for those I never knew, 

And drink for them of sorrow's cup. 

Chorus. — My heart is dull and sorrowful ; 0, oh ! 
My bosom heaves a sigh ! 
Yet all to me is mystery ; 0, oh ! 
I'm sad, but kuow not why. 

Pull on, pull on ! 0, pull, brave boys ! 

Propel my sluggish boat away ! 
Oh, ply your oars, that I may reach 

Yon spot before the close of day ! 
Lend me the spy-glass ! Lo ! I see 

A lofty ship in shatter'd wreck ! 
Her shrouds, and yards, and masts are gone, 

Nor can I see a soul on deck ! 

Chorus* — My heart is dull, &c. 

But nearer now ! now, board the ship — 

A vague uncertainty is here ! 
Is the brave crew alive, or dead ? 

I'm fain to hope, yet full of fear. 
Nay, all is o'er — she's water-logg'd ! 

A scene of desolate distress ! 
Yet may her crew be elsewhere safe ; 

But that were vain to even guess. 

Chorus. — My heart is dull, &c. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 269 

A mother, wife, or maiden's love 

May long have centred on this ship ; 
I wish them joy to meet their friends, 

And kiss each dear belov'd one's lip ! 
May truth soon bring these seamen's fate, 

And free my soul from anxious care ! 
And rich success and bliss attend 

Each worthy, dauntless British tar ! 
Chorus. — My heart is dull, &c. 



THE PERVERSITY OF TROUBLE. 

I'm a reed that is shiver'd and bent in the blast, 
Yet cannot break off till the tempest is past. 

I'm a straw on the torrent — most willing to drown, 
And yet not permitted the bliss to go down ! 

I'm a spot on the sky, tho' not by my will, 
And yet I must darken the firmament still. 

I'm a victim that writhes in the terrible claw 
That neither will end me, nor yet let me go. 

I'm an atom of dust that is blown on the gale, 
And tho' I would cease, I can never prevail. 

The perversions of trouble for ever annoy, 
And tho' I beseech them, they will not destroy. 

Thro' troubles in oceans, in earth, and in sky, 
I yet must be toss'd, unpermitted to die ! 

How hard, then, the fate that still binds me to life, 
And fills up my lot with distraction and strife. 

I may not be happy, tho' gladly would cease, 
And give up all turmoil for lowliest peace. 
"When nature works on by her general laws, 
'Tis vain for the feeble to think to oppose. 

Then all I can do is to patiently wait 
Till the changing of seasons shall change my estate. 
A a.2 



270 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE SOLITARY HOUR. 

Give me the solitary hour, 
Shut out from all mankind ; 
• Secluded from all worldly pow^r 
That biases the mind. 

A solitary hour relieves 

The soul from greedy cares ; 

Our worn vitality retrieves, 
And brighter hope prepares. 

The solitary hour invites 
Sweet nature's private love, 

For things whereto the man delights 
His energies to move. 

Set free for once, the restless soul 
Assumes her genial sway ; 

Nor views the tyrant's threat'ning scowl 
With feelings of dismay. 

If tyrants saw the secret pow'r 
That stirs the active mind, 

They would not always be so sour 
In dealing with mankind. 

Unmov'd by censure, or applause 

Of worldly influence ; 
Her own designs she forms, and draws 

The nat'ral inference. 

The solitary hour defines 
The motives of the mind ; 

'Tis then her native virtue shines 
As most she is inclin'd. 

The solitary hour allows 

The wise reflective man 
To mark which way his feeling flows, 

And ev'ry motive scan. 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 271 

The solitary hour be mine, 

My rebels thoughts to curb, 
Till such content around me twine 

As nothing can disturb. 

Give me the solitary hour, 

Shut out from all mankind ; 
That reason thus may gain the pow'r 

To regulate my mind. 



AN OLD MONK. 

An aged Monk, who in his cell 

Had spent his former life, 
Resolv'd no longer there to dwell, 

Bat see the " world of strife !" 

Then out he came, and oft was charm'd 

"With scenes of gay delight ; 
But most he felt his bosom warm'd 

By ladies fair and bright ! 

He wonder' d when he viewed the young 

In virgin bloom and game, 
Whence all the old- wife tribe had sprung, 

So wrinkFd, crook' d, and lame ! 

Too wise to ask, he read his books, 
And skimm'd o'er nature's face ; 

Then fix'd that those with maiden looks 
"Were a new-fashion' d race ! 

Now, this good Monk had a weak side — 

A rib he wanted there, 
And took a fashionable bride 

To ease his pain and care ! 

But soon this partner of his life 

As youthful bloom decay' d, 
Convinc'd the Monk a plain old wife 

Is but an alter'd maid ! 



272 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE RECONCILING KISS. 

"When cruel strifes by chance have rent 

The peace of social bliss, 
How sweet the love that dares present 

The reconciling kiss ! 

Tho' conscience knows some treach'rous deed 

Is secretly amiss, 
Yet we forgive, and feel to need 

The reconciling kiss. 

Tho' long we mourn offended love, 

We cannot well dismiss 
The lip that would our pain remove 

With reconciling kiss. 

How should each lover, child, and spouse 

Cherish a charm like this, 
And haste in ev'ry strife to use 

The reconciling kiss ! 



THE OLD MAN FROM THE NORTH. 

Who is this that comes up from the North 
In his cloak and his mantle of furs % 

The tempest wing carries him forth, 
And the hurricane lends him her spurs ! 

His floods have invaded the plains ! 

He clothes all the mountains with white ! 
He binds up the streams in his chains ! 

It's Old Winter ! — I know him by sight ! 

Salute him with feasting and mirth, 
For he hates to be merry and free ; 

He'll rather slink back to the North 
Than stay to partake of such glee ! 

Invite the old snob to your feats, 

And scorch his cold nose with hot fires ! 

Until the grim Icemaker meets 
Young Spring, at whose breath he expires .' 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 273 

TO THE OCEAN. 

Whenever, in my solitary walks 

Along the cliff of fearful altitude, 

I take a moment's stand to gaze around, 

And meditate on thee, 0, mighty Ocean ! 

I'm lost in deep profundity of thought, 

And almost think that what I see and hear 

Must be eternal and omnipotent. 

So vast, so lasting, and so fierce the might 

That rends asunder large and flinty rocks — 

Tears up the bosom of the stubborn cliff, 

And leaves a wild, indented, cavern'd front ; 

That sweeps with strange impetuosity 

New channels thro' the solid land, 

Ripping asunder* isles and continents, 

And parting those who once were neighb'ring friends 

By floods which run for ever bold and deep. 

In thy profusion lost, I turn me round, 

Dizzy and sicken'd with the sight, and wrapt 

In insignificance and vanity, 

I see myself as perfect nothingness ! 

How passing grand is thy perpetual heave 
For ever and for ever to and fro, 
Proceeding with unwearied constancy, 
Led by the mighty influence of the Moon. 
How strong the cord that binds thee to the car 
Of night's fair queen. That cord we cannot see : 
Yet, tho' we see it not, it drags thee on, 
And moves, it may be, every drop of thine. 



* Several divisions of one portion of land from another, by the ageDcy 
of the sea, are on record ; as, for instance, those of Egypt, mentioned by 
Plato as having taken place some six or seven centuries before the 
Christian era : also, the separation of Africa from Europe at the Straits 
of Gibraltar ; Sicily from Italy ; Ceylon from the Asiatic continent ; and« 
some think, England from France. The inhabitants of the South Sea 
Islands have also an old tradition that the islands were made by the gods, 
in their anger, breaking up the whole world, of which they think the isles 
are a few scattered remnants. 



274 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

But what's in thee, we know not. Thou art deep : 
They say unfathomable are thy depths ; 
And so they may be to the seaman's lead. 
Two thousand leagues of line perchance would not 
Bring sand or gravel, on the plummet, up. 
The great philosophers will tell me, " Yes ; 
For that would reach the centre of this earth !" 
But who knows that 1 If there were naught but 

depth, 
Why, then it might, or, rather, surely would ; 
But if there be a passage to and past 
The centre of the sphere, filled but with water, 
And thither should a stone or lead be hurl'd, 
'Twould rest as tho' it ne'er had been remov'd, 
And hang upon the point of gravity — 
The point for which all earthly objects vie ; 
Yet here 'twould show no traces of a bottom. 
Again, it might not ever reach the midway point, 
And even lead be buoyant in the fluid, 
Which here is scarce a tenth the weight thereof ; 
But which may there be tenfold more compress'd, 
Or of such diff'rent sort that lead or stone 
Would scarcely fall therein, and by the string 
Might be suspended in a half-way place. 
So dark the paths which we have never seen, 
Our theories may be wrong, and truth unknown. 

But, thou Sea ! thy raging and thy depth 
Are naught ; and what destruction thou hast wrought 
Shall be return' d on thee with tenfold fury. 
The myriad hosts of men by thee engulf 'd 
Shall not remain in thee for ever lost : 
Thou shalt be sated with thy murder'd prey, 
And then at once disgorge the whole again ; 
For even Seas must give up all their dead. 
For, as young birds, when in their nests confin'd, 
Gain strength sufficient for the task of flight, 
To soar aloft amid the ambient air ; 
So shall the dead grow to immortal strength, 
And all again, when the last trumpet sounds, 



MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 275 

Spring from the secret caverns of the deep ; 
Shall rise superior to the greedy flood, 
And from its tyranny be ever free : 
The spreading Ocean then shall be no more, 
But lost amid the wreck of elements ! 

Then, my soul ! how will it fare with thee, 
"When mighty Oceans into nothing shrink ? 
How wilt thou bear the voice that shakes the earth, 
And out from depths unfathomable calls 
(With pow'r that wakes and nerves) the slumb'ring 

clay? 
That voice whose breath (above the pow'rs of man) 
Dries up at once the billow and its fountain ; — 
That voice which then shall blast the hopes of sin, 
And sink polluted souls to deeper Seas, 
Where waves of sorrow — waves of ceaseless pain — 
Shall toss them up and down eternally. 

But there's another Sea for happier souls — 
A Sea of glory, where there are no storms — 
No tossing tempests — no unruly winds ; 
But where the faithful and the happy bathe 
In all the fulness of eternal bliss, 
Which flows in plenitude around the throne of Heav'n. 



A SONG TO SYLVIA. 
Thou wilt inflame ! thou wilt inflame ! 
My charming Sylvia, all my frame. 
For Virtue's sake, forbear, forbear 
To look so winning, sweet, and fair ! 
0, do not, love, enchain me so ! 
Let my poor captive spirit go ! 
I must not love ! I must not love ! 
I fear 'twill our confusion prove ! 
Yet I must feel — 0, yes, I feel ! 
How hard it is with love to deal. 
I yield ! for I must love or pine ; 
0, Sylvia, then, I must be thine ! 



270? MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 

THE SHEPHERD'S MIDNIGHT SONG. 

[In some parts of Yorkshire it is customary, during the lambing season, 
for Shepherds to attend their flocks by night.] 

I sit alone thro' the long night, 

To tend my flock of sheep ; 
And constantly pursue my rounds, 

While others soundly sleep. 
The full and heavy-burden'd ewe 

Shall have my watchful care, 
And young and tender bleating lambs 

In my protection share. 
The cold north winds and falling wet 

Annoy the new-yean'd lambs, 
Till they are hous'd, and warm, and dry, 

And learn to suck their dams. 

But sleep attacks me fiercely now ! 

I feel his mighty pow'rs, 
And could right well my bed enjoy 

Thro' night's long tedious hours. 
Yet sleep, begone ! I hear a bleat ; 

Again my round begins ; 
And, lo ! a fine old gentle ewe 

Has born me healthy twins ! 
Thus pass my nights, and ewes and lambs 

My cheerful thoughts employ ! 
At once my pleasure and my toil — 

My harass and my joy ! 



A CONVERTED BACHELOR. 

Is it a crime to love the fair ? 

Then hang me off to-morrow ! 
For I would rather die than bear 

To live in lonely sorrow ! 



HYMNS, &c. 



CREATIVE POWER, l.m. 

Blow ! blow, ye raging hollow winds ! 

Bend the creation as ye will ! 
Your breath in weakness shall expire, 

If God but whispers " Peace, be still ! 

Fly ! fly, ye lightnings, thro' the sky ! 

Ye sullen thunders, grumble on ! 
The Maker of the worlds will mark 

How far ye both may freely run. 

Tear up, ye waves, the solid rock, 
And lash his cliffy mountain breast ! 

But if the Lord of seas appears, 
Your fury sinks to glassy rest. 

Ascend, ye vapours, thro' the air ! 

Assume on high a starry light ! 
But the Omniscient eye observes, 

And shoots you down in blackest night. 

Ye lusty infidels, advance, 

And build your learned, bold designs ! 
They all dissolve like thawing ice 

When true creative wisdom shines. 



278 HYMNS, &C. 

THE ALMIGHTY. CM. 

Written during the great Storm of Februwy 17th, 1836, when 
several lives were lost at Scarborough. 

How great and mighty is our God- 
How matchless is His pow'r ; 

The heaViis all tremble at His rod, 
Nor can the earth endure. 

When first He bid creation rise, 

He scarcely spake the word, 
E'er worlds, and seas, suns, stars, and skies, 

Appear'd with one accord. 

The earth, when fram'd by his behest, 

Was soon adorn' d, we find, 
By tree, by herb, fish, fowl, and beast 

Of every form and kind. 

And now invisibly he reigns 

Lord of each shining sphere ; 
He^guides them thro' ethereal plains, 

And whirls them far and near. 

He wills ! and lo ! in distant skies, 

Are clouds of awful form ! 
Which gather round, till winds arise 

And burst them in a storm ! 

He wills ! and lo ! an earthquake comes 

That breaks the stable ground ! 
The sea in dire convulsions foams, 

And spreads dismay around ! 

And what is man, that he should boast 

His actions, strength, or skill ? 
What are his noblest pow'rs at most ? 

What his perverted will ? 

Can man before Jehovah stand, 

And on His glory gaze ? 
Can he resist God's mighty hand, 
Or stay Him on his ways \ 



HYMNS, <feC. 279 



We own, Lord, how weak we are, 
Whilst Thou art great and good ; 

We ask Thy pardon, love, and care, 
Thro' Christ our Saviour's blood. 



SAFETY IN STORMS. S.M. 
Written in the Thunder Storm, of June 21st, 1851. 

When thro' the firmament 
The lurid lightnings glare, 
And the appalling thunders vent 
Their terrors thro' the air ; — 

When gath'ring clouds descend 
In wild, distressing forms, 
Yet calmly shall my faith depend 
On Him who rules the storms ! 

No thunder-bolt shall dare 

To strike where he denies ; 

At His rebuke the lightning's flare 

Shall seek the distant skies. 

Then safe within His hand 
I'll wait with solemn awe, 
While flaming worlds at His command 
Obey His sov'reign law ! 

No refuge else but He, 
Who makes the thunders roll, 
Can e'er a kind protection be 
To guard the trembling soul. 

Then, 0, my Father God, 
Thy succour still bestow, 
That, while I fear Thine anger'd rod, 
My faith may stronger grow. 



280 HYMNS, etc. 

WARNING PROVIDENCES. 4-8s & 2-6s." 

Written after the dreadful Thunder Storm of July 29th, 1851, when, 
in addition to several other injuries occasioned by the electric 
fluid, Mr. John Johnson, of Wigginton, near York, was struck 
with instant death. 

How fearfully, Eternal God ! 
Thy warning judgments fly abroad 

O'er the astonish' d laud ; 
Thy thunders shake the earth and sky, 
Thy creatures by thy lightnings die, 

And we in terror stand ! 

How feeble, Lord, are human pow'rs, 
When o'er the earth thy vengeance low'rs 

On our apostate race ; 
With deep contrition we confess 
Our base degree of worthlessness, 

And seek Thy pard'ning grace. 

Father, have mercy ! while we mourn, 
From all our lusts our passions turn 

By Thy good Spirit's might : 
0, by the chains of love, compel 
Our souls to leave the path to hell, 

And seek the realms of light ! 



HEAVEN, l.m. 

There is a Heav'n, a blest abode, 
Where those shall dwell who serve the Lord 
And great their happiness will he 
Who there shall spend eternity. 

No troubles shall disturb their breast, 
For Christ himself will be their rest ; 
He ever wipes away their tears, 
And banishes then childlike fears. 



HYMNS, &C. 281 

There needs no sun to rule their days, 
For Heaven is bright with glory's rays ; 
No scorching light on them shall shine, 
But all is perfect and divine ! 

Then seek, my soul, an entrance there, 
Where the redeem'd, the blessed, are ; 
Seek well thy heav'nly Saviour's love, 
And He thy suit will sure approve. 



ASPIRATIONS AFTER HEAVEN. 4-8s & 2-6s. 

O that I now from hence might rise, 
And soar above the lofty skies, 

To enter heav'nly bliss : 
My soul for naught on earth would care, 
But wish to dwell for ever there, 

Where Christ the Saviour is. 

I've tried this world where mortals live, 
And find it can no pleasure give, 

Except to flesh and lust : 
Satan and sinners here unite, 
With all their art and strength, to fight 

Against the humble just. 

Come, then, my dearest Saviour ! come, 
And fetch my groaning spirit home, 

Far from this house of clay : 
Prepare me, Lord, to meet thy face, 
Then give my soul a happy place 

In realms of endless day ! 

With Abraham may my soul abide, 
Near Isaac and near Jacob's side, 

'Midst saints around the Lamb : 
There would I join th' angelic throng, 
Who sing the sweet, new, endless song, 

And praise the Saviour's name ! 
bb2 



282 HYMNS, Arc. 

SUDDEN DEATH, l.m. 
Tho' Death is dire in every form, 

And strikes a terror on the mind, 
Yet sudden death doth most alarm 

The loviug friends we leave hehind. 
To die 'midst weeping friends is naught, 

If wire in Christ, prepar'd for death 
If not, how dreadful is the thought 

Of what succeeds our final breath ! 
Great God ! if on a sudden I 

Should have to meet my latter end, 
May I be found with thee on high, 

A long eternity to spend. 

If sudden death should cut me down, 

And lay me with the silent dead, 
"Wilt thou bestow a heav'nly crown 

Upon my undeserving head ? 
Lord, fill me now with holy care, 

That I may always ready stand, 
And be prepar'd, without a fear, 

For any death, at Thy command. 



THE CERTAINTY OP DEATH. L.M. 

Written on, retiring from the Funeral of Mrs. Holtby, <tt Newton, 
near York, May ZOtli, 1852. 

Great Acthor of the earth and sky ! 

How plainly writ is Thy decree, 
That all created flesh must die, 

No matter where or what we be. 
No strength of flesh, or force of mind ; 

No bloom of youth, or beauty's pride, 
An antidote for death can find, 

Or refuge from his might provide. 
Prepare us, Lord, by plenteous grace 

For the momentous final hour ! 
When we must yield our life's short race 

To the destroyer's fatal pow'r. 



HYMNS, &C. 283 

WANDERING FROM THE TRUTH, cm. 

Ah me ! poor frail, unstable worm ! 

How oft from God I stray ; 
Tho' oft reclaim' d, I wander still 

From his most blessed way. 

My Saviour God ! teach me to live 

The happy life of Truth ; 
Teach me in manhood more to love 

The Guardian of my youth. 

Be Thou, when age or death shall come, 

My wisdom, faith, and hope, 
To guide me thro' the maze of time — 

In death to bear me up ! 



SAVE, OR WE PERISH, LORD ! s.M< 

Save, or we perish, Lord ! 

Amid the storms of life ; 

Rebuke the tempest by Thy word, 

And hush the wilful strife. 

Save, or we perish, Lord, 
By Satan's hellish wiles ; 
Defeat him by Thy holy sword, 
Ere he our souls beguiles. 

Save, or we perish, Lord, 
E'en with the port in view ; 
Help us the ark of life to board, 

And join the heav'n-bound crew. 

Save, or we perish, Lord — 
A woful wreck of sin ; 
Thine arm of strength to us afford, 
The shore of bliss to win. 

Save, or we perish, Lord ! 
We then no more shall cry, 
But ever sing, with one accord, 
Thy praise beyond the sky ! 



HYMNS, &C. 

NATURAL DEPRAVITY, l.m. 

By nature, Lord, how vile I am ! 
How depicable is my name ; 
My words and actions all unite 
To make me hateful in Thy sight. 

I feel a treach'rous soul within, 
That's prone to wander after sin — 
A stubborn heart of unbelief, 
That oft engenders pain and grief. 

When most I would from error flee, 
To seek my happiness in Thee, 
Then Satan comes with fresh attack, 
And bribes this heart to draw me back 

Wheu, Oh ! I always find this flesh 
Ready to follow siu afresh ; 
Nor can my reason, or my will, 
Keep these vile lusts and passions still. 

Ah, no, my God ! I can't control 
Tin' sinful impulse of my soul ; 
If grace divine doth not restrain, 
All human effort is in vain. 

Come, Friend of sinners, on me shed 
Those blessings which revive the dead ; 
Renew my heart, cleanse me within, 
And make my soul averse to sin. 



THE ENLIGHTENED SINNER, l.m. 

Long have I scom'd the friendly voice 
Which warn'd me of my dangerous path 

Till now my soul is lost in vice, 
And nigh unto the gates of death ! 

How long, intoxicating siu, 

Wouldst thou deprive me of my God ? 
I long have drunk thy poison in, 

And headlong run the downward road. 



HYMNS, &C. 285 

Oh, Satan, thou'rt a cruel wretch ! 

Why use such specious, deadly snares, 
And promise aught, the soul to catch — 

Then drown it in a gulf of cares ? 

Where's the reward thou saidst to me 

I should obtain by wickedness ? 
I sure have labour'd hard for thee ; 

But all my hire is much distress. 

Thy faithful servant I have been, 

But thou of masters art the worst ; 
Were ever servants paid like thine ? 

Their greatest gain to lose the most ! 

A wretched end appears in view ! 

The dreadful verge of endless wo ! 
My 'frighted soul its choice must rue I 

What shall I do ? — where shall I go % 

Entic'd by false, delusive scenes — 

By vanity and sin impell'd ! 
Entangl'd by thy wily schemes, 

Thou monster base, by thee I'm held ! 

Ah, evil tyrant, let me go ! 

I am resolv'd to leave thy ways ; 
'Tis Christ, the Saviour, I would know ; 

I'll follow Him my future days. 

I fain my Jesus' grace would prove ; 

0, take my bonds of sin away, 
And draw me by a cord of love, 

To run in Thine appointed way. 

Thy holy precepts fairly write 

Upon the tablet of my heart ; 
In wisdom's ways conduct me straight, 

And never let me thence depart. 

Then will I sing with sacred joy ; 

My heart shall burn with glowing love ; 
To do Thy will be my employ, 

That I my gratitude may prove. 



286 HYMNS, (fee. 

FRIGIDITY OF THE HUMAN SOUL. cm. 

As cold and barren as the clod, 
Encas'd in ice and snow, 

Are human souls, till the great God 
His Spirit doth bestow. 

Then in a new-created might, 

Of rich celestial pow'rs, 
The soul bursts forth in gay delight, 

Like vernal blooming flow'rs. . 

And like a sweet melodious bird, 
In nature's worship skill'd, 

In new-born praise her voice is heard, 
With joy and duty fill'd. 

Descend, sweet renovating breath 

On all our icy race, 
And clothe our souls of moral death 

With fruits of heav'nly grace. 



EARTHLY JOYS UNSUBSTANTIAL. 7s. 

All the pleasures of this life 
Are but bubbles light and vain — 

Buds of joy, with evil rife, 
Quickly rip'ning into pain ! 

Could such vain nonentities, 
If we might possess them all, 

Ever bless the mind with peace — 
Ever satisfy the soul ? 

They may tempt, but never bless ; 

They may lull the soul to sleep — 
Sow the heart with wretchedness, 

Giving misery to reap. 

Hence to heav'n my soul aspires, 
To a joy that's ever new — 

That can fill my vast desires 
More than all the world can do ! 



HYMNS, &C. 287 

SALVATION IN CHRIST ALONE. 4-8s & 2-6s. 
Acts, iv. 12. 

Close by the dismal grave we stand, 
And totter on its gloomy brink, 

And all its terrors see ; 
We even feel that death's at hand, 
Nor know how soon our souls may sink 

Into eternity ! 

But, tho' all future things were told, 
And heaVn and hell at large were seen, 

In glory and in pain ; 
Yet, Oh, how dull ! — how deadly cold ! 
Our hearts, unchang'd amidst the scene. 

Their sinfulness retain. 

Yes ! tho' all beings should unite 
To ransom man from error's chain, 

Or free one soul from sin ; 
Yet all their wisdom and their might, 
"Without our Jesus is in vain — 

They could not make it clean. 

Descend, then, 0, thou Mighty One ! 
Display Thy mercy and Thy pow'r, 

And let us taste Thy love. 
Accept us thro' what Christ has done. 
And make us, in this flying hour. 

Thy loving-kindness prove ! 



PRAYER FOR PURITY, l.m. 

Great God ! wilt thou the pow'r impart, 
That I may search my treach'rous heart, 
And purge whate'er therein may be 
That stands oppos'd to Truth and Thee ! 

Teach me each vicious thought to hate, 
And each dear lust t' eradicate, 
That I may never dare to love 
An object Thou wilt disapprove. 



HYMNS, <fcc. 

A REFUGE FROM THE STORM. 4-8s & 2-fe. 
Isaiah, xxv. 4. 

When to the Christian's soul appear 
Temptations, snares, and sins, and care, 

In all their darkest form ; 
He need not shrink, or hrook despair, 
For by his side the Lord is there — 

A refuge from the storm ! 

When on the wild, tumultuous seas 
Of passions, pains, and agonies, 

The waves my bark deform, — 
I'll look to Christ, my all in all, 
And He shall be unto my soul 

A refuge from the storm 1 

Thro' evVy season of my life, 

Thro' roughest paths, thro' hardest strife, 

My heart shall fear no harm ; 
Tho' clouds and storms my comforts hide, 
I know my Saviour can provide 

A refuge from the storm ! 

And when this life of time shall end, 
The Lord will be the Christian's friend, 

And save the helpless worm : 
"When nature wrecks and breaks away, 
God will to all his saints display 

A refuge from the storm ! 

Then give me, Lord, all needful grace, 
To hold me on the Christian race, 

And all Thy will perform ; 
That I in Thee, from earthly pain, 
And from the floods of death, may gain 

A refuge from the storm ! 



HYMNS, &C. 289 

OUR EARTHLY PILGRIMAGE, cm. 

Tho' pilgrim-like we spend this life, 

And must contend with ill ; 
Yet joyfully we still march on, 

To do our Saviour's will. 

And He from earth, and sin, and pain 

Will soon our souls release, 
And close our course of conflict here 

With everlasting peace ! 



LORD ! I BELIEVE. 4-8s & 2-6s. 

Lord ! 1 believe that thou art God, 
Who hore for me Thy Father's rod, 

And put Thy soul to grief, 
To save me e'er His judgment fell, 
That else had sunk me down to hell : 

Help Thou mine unbelief. 

Lord ! 1 believe that heav'nly joy 
Is full and free, without alloy, 

While earth's is vaiu and brief. 
0, I would fain enjoy Thy love, 
And range with Thee thy courts above : 

Help Thou mine unbelief. 

Lord ! 1 believe Thy blood was spilt 
Even for me ; then, if thou wilt, 
Send now my soul's relief. 
I struggle on with faith and doubt. 
And try to shut the tempter out : 
Help Thou mine unbelief. 

Lord ! L believe that Thou hast pow'r 
To save e'en to th' eleventh hour, 

As once Thou didst the thief ; 
But from such risk, Lord, save me now, 
Lest I should more hard-hearted grow : 

Help Thou mine unbelief. 

Lord ! 1 believe that thro' the world 
Thy banner fair will be unfurl' d, 

And all shall own Thee chief. 
But man is of a recreant race, 
And long seems doubtful of Thy grace : 

Help Thou mine unbelief. 



290 HYMNS, &C. 

INVITATION TO PUBLIC WORSHIP, l.m. 
Written v;Jiile on the way from Haxhy to York Minster. 

Haste to the temple of the Lord, 
To sing His praise, to hear His word ; 
While yet the Sabbath morn is new, 
This holy work with zeal pursue. 
Escape awhile your worldly grief, 
And seek from Heav'n some kind relief ; 
God gave the Sabbath for our rest, 
And on this day we may be blest : 

Be blest with grace to heal our woes — 
With strength to stand, tho' fiends oppose, 
And find a bliss from duty flow, 
As more allied to Heav'n we grow. 



FAITH, cm. 

How is it that ye have no faith ? 

What doubt can ye allege 
Of Him whose truth is seal'd with blood, 

That rare and certain pledge ? 
Hoio is it that ye have no faith ? 

Can ye dispute His might, 
Whom winds, and seas, and storms obey, 

And shrink before his sight ? 
Hoio is it that ye have no faith ? 

Hath Jesus got no charm 
Whereby to fix your wand'ring love, 

And your affections warm ? 

How is it that ye have no faith 
Your lasting peace to make ? 

Acceptance is alone requir'd 
The offer'd boon to take ! 

How is it that ye have no faith ? 

The Lord of glory cries ; 
And he who meekly tries His word 

Shall in redemption rise ! 



HYMNS, &C. 291 

JESUS CHRIST THE SAVIOUfi OP MEN. p.m. 

To faithful saints the name of Christ 
Is sweetest sound that can exist ; 
Far sweeter than the softest note 

That cherubs give, 
Or best musician ever taught, 

Or men conceive. 

It thrills thro' each believer's soul 
A charm that rules in full control ; 
It checks his pain, it heals his grief 

With holy balm, 
And gives his fainting heart relief 

From all alarm. 

What name with such delight is fraught ? 
How rich the work the Saviour wrought ! 
What other object can impart, 

In accents kind, 
Such joy as Jesus to the heart 

Of human kind ? 

If sin or sorrow racks the mind, 
In Him a sure relief we find ; 
None can the Saviour's merits tell 

By mortal voice ; 
For Jesus hath done all things well, 

Of his own choice. 

Then sing his honours, all ye saints ! 
Nor take delight in dull complaints, 
But in an endless joyous song 

His name adore ; 
Let grateful praise employ each tongue 

For evermore ! 

When this tumultuous life is o'er, 
And we arrive on Canaan's shore, 
In perfect bliss our souls shall dwell, 

And heav'n shall ring 
With praises to Emmanuel, 

Which we will sing. 



292 HYMNS, &C. 

T E JUDGMENT BOOKS, cm. 

Written on hearing an impirssive Sermon preached in York Mi/nth r, 
by the Rev. J. C. Atkinson, Hector of Danby, and Chaplain to 
f/ic Hon. Payan Dawnay, then High Sheriff, on Sunday, March 
Mi, 1851, before the Hon. Sir Cresswell Cresswell, Knt., and the 
Hon. Sir Thomas Joshua Piatt, Knt., Judges for that Spring 
A ssize. 

Text—" And the books wcro opened."— Rev., xx. 12. 

When, for the judgment of the world, 

The court of Heav'n shall sit, 
The books of time shall be unfurl'd, 

Where all our deeds are writ. 

Our secret actions shall be scann'd, 

Our private thoughts disclos'd, 
And all the good or ill we've planu'd 

Be opculy expos'd. 

Then fair (as on the silver'd plate 

The sun our likeness shows) 
The light of Heav'n shall re-create 

In memory all she knows. 

Our dull remembrance, quicken' d well, 

Will reobserve each fact, 
And stand constrain'd the truth to tell 

Of every vicious act. 

The sight of those by whom we sin 

Will strengthen our remorse, 
And strike the sentence deep within 

Our souls with fearful force ! 

E'en now the conscience ill asserts 

Her plea of rectitude ; 
From mortal scrutiny reverts, 

And shuns to be review'd. 

But, then, the penetrative sight 
Of Heav'n shall read us through, 

Till we shall own the Judge is right, 
And just what He shall do ! 

Laid open, all our crimes shall rise, 
And those we've wrong'd will see ! 

How shall we meet that world of eyes ? 
What will our conscience be ? 



HYMNS, &C. 293 

Now, my soul, thy record fill 

With godly, holy notes ; 
Reform the folly of thy will, 

And sanctify thy thoughts. 

Remember every day's report 

Is written for th' assize, 
When God and men, in open court, 

Thy works will scrutinize. 

Great God ! teach me all sin to dread ; 

My love for truth increase ; 
That, when the trumpet calls the dead, 

My soul may rise in peace. 

So may I every moment live 

As tho' the Judge I heard, 
Each closing day, my sentence give 

For every thought and word ! 



PRAYER FOR RENEWING GRACE, cm. 

My Saviour ! when shall sov'reign grace 

In me have full control, 
And to the steadfast Christian race 

Constrain my vagrant soul ? 

How often my repentant will 
Would change its daily plan, 

And all the purposes fulfil 
That God designs for man. 

But frail my best intentions are 

To keep a righteous course ; 
For native vice renews the war, 

And gains the greater force. 

Lord ! save me from this daily strife ; 

Recruit my feeble love, 
Aid me to live such holy life 

As thou wilt best approve. 

Eradicate my inbred lust 

By the redeeming leav'n, 
That, working thro' my earthly dust, 

Shall rise my soul to heaVn ! 

cc2 



204 hymns, Arc. 

THE BOOK OF REMEMBRANCE. -Malachi, iii. 16. 

THE BOOK OF LIFE.— Rev., xx. 12. 

Written after hearing the Sermon of the Rev. J. C. Atkinson, in 
York Minster, July ldth, 1851. 

The truthful books of heav'n enroll 
The works and name of ev'ry soul, 
"Whose patient, persevering grace 
Hath well endur'd the Christian race. 
Iu the remembrance book are giv'n 
The deeds of ev'ry child of heav'n ! 

Its pages will the fruit declare 

Which all the heirs of glory bear : 

Their ardent hope, their pious zeal, 

Their faith and charity reveal ; 

Their conflicts, and their frequent loss, 

For their adherence to the cross ; 

Their sacrifices to retain 

Their conscience clean where sinners reign : 

These virtues, and whate'er besides 

The truly Christian life provides, 

This book will for their good display 

In witness on the judgment day. 

And in the book of life appear 

All names of saints recorded clear ; 

But those whose names this list omits 

Are doom'd to wo when judgment sits. 

0, may I find my worthless name 

Amongst the followers of the Lamb ! 



PRAISE TO THE TRIUNE GOD. 
Tune—" Dedication." 

A hymn of praise we sing 

To heav'n's Almighty King : 
Fellow-creatures, swell the song ; 

All ye saints, your voices lend ; 
Mortals all, the sound prolong ; 

Angels, let it never end ! 



HYMNS, &C. 295 

We sing the great I AM — 

The God of glorious name ! 
God that fills th' eternal throne, 

"Worshipp'd hy th' angelic host — 
Sacred, mystic three in one, 

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 

Lord ! our souls inspire 

With pure celestial fire : 
In our hearts Thy graces store, 

Then in strains sublime we'll sing, 
Reign for ever — evermore 

Reign o'er all, thou glorious King ! 



SING PRAISES. 

Sing praises, all ye happy men, 
Who know a Saviour's grace ; 

Let not your souls in sloth remain, 
But godly mercies trace. 

Sing praises to Jehovah's name, 

For all his deeds of love, 
While o'er his many acts of fame 

Your thoughts in wonder rove. 

Sing praises of His works of old, 

And in the present day ; 
How can your hearts to Him be cold, 

Or want of love betray? 

Sing praises to th' atoning Son, 

Who satisfied the law, 
And bled for sins that you had done, 

And suffer'd all your wo ! 

Sing praises, pilgrims here below, 
Till each to heaven attains, 

When we more perfect joys shall know, 
And sing in nobler strains, 



196 HYMNS, &C. 

CHRISTIAN UNITY, cm. 

Oh ! when shall pure celestial fire 
Each pious soul inflame ? 

And all sectarian terms expire 
In the one Christian name ? 

When doctrines evangelical 
The church on earth embrace ? 

And all the tribes of God shall hail 
Each one a child of grace ? 

When shall the joys of heav'n begin 

By unity on earth 1 
When shall we weigh our souls within, 

And learn each brother's worth ? 

Not till the Lord shall give us zeal, 
And impulse new impart : 

So now, my God, our discords heal, 
And join us heart in heart. 

Then shall the truths of gospel light 

All heathen error chase. 
Dispel from earth satanic night, 

And heav'n supply the place ! 



THE RESURRECTION, l.m. 

There comes a term when death must yield 
The saints who in his bosom sleep ; 

Like new-born babes, they from his arms 
To endless glorious life shall leap. 

The bowels of the tomb no more 
►Shall hold them as a prison cell ; 

They in a fairer world shall join 
The family of Emmanuel ! 

Then cease thy boasting triumph, Death ! 

There is a better world than this, 
Which by thine aid alone we reach ; 

Thou art our passport into bliss ! 



HYMNS, &C. 29< 

END OF THE YEAR. 

Another year is ended 

By moments quickly fled, 
And we are yet suspended 

On life's poor slender thread ; 
While cruel Death arrested 

Ten thousand all around, 
On Love Divine we've feasted, 

And ev'ry mercy found. 

As hours in fast succession 

Have run their rapid speed, 
High Heav'n's supreme protection 

Attended all our need : 
No skill of ours could keep us 

From earth's surrounding woes, 
Nor guard against mischievous 

And ill-designing foes. 

Then, as we've dwelt securely 

Beneath th' Almighty's care, 
So let us praise Him hourly 

For such delightful fare. 
Lord ! make us ever grateful 

For all Thy mercies past, 
And keep us humbly faithful 

As long as life shall last ! 



EPITAPHS. 

1. — Be wise, ye wanderers o'er the dead, 
Before your day of grace is fled ! 

2. — 'Tis thus ordain'd ! our life and strength 
Must all submit to Death at length ! 

3. — Thou dear companion, faithful friend, 
'Tis meet I should deplore thy end. 

4. — Reader ! believe this truth from me, 
That Death pursues hard after thee 1 



)8 HYMNS, &C. 

NEW YEAR'S HYMN. 
Tune—" Vesper." 
Written by request, to he sung on the Morning of Jan. 1st, 
Rise ! ye mortals, from your slumbers — 

Rise to sing your Maker's praise ! 

Moments pass in crowded numbers ; 

Quickly move your wasting days. 

Time flies swiftly, 
Yet our blessings come as fast. 
Hallelujah! &c 
Now, another year departed 

Bows beneath your load of crime ; 
But to you are still imparted 
Other days of slighted time. 

Praise Jehovah ! 
Praise Him for his sparing grace. 
Hallelujah! &c. 
Lo ! another year is rising ! 

Hail it for the bliss it brings ; 

Offer'd blessings, most surprising, 

Hang beneath its rapid wings. 

Seize the blessings ; 
Then sing praises to the Lord ! 
Hallelujah ! <kc. 



THE END. 
The end of all things comes at last ! 

"We need but calmly persevere ; 
The die of fate will soon be cast 

On ev'ry trial, joy, or fear ! 
The end of life is coming, too ! 

Tho' much to shun it we may try ! 
And he who hath no brighter view 

Than time affords, will darkly die. 
Eternity, alone, the same, 

Remains unalterably sure ; 
And he who would true riches claim, 

Must lay them up in heav'n secure. 



JUVENILE PASTIMES, 



CHARADES. 



I. 

My first the merchantman surveys, 

When calculating cash ; 
My second is a gentleman 

"Who mostly cuts a dash ; 
My whole like music charms the ear, 
And frees the culprit from his fear. 

II. 

Anger and wrath my first implies, 
"With hatred fearful grown ; 

My next, a portion of the earth, 
"Would most men love to own ; 

My whole an isle of ancient fame, 
abus'd, to England's 



III. 

Equality, a match or pair 
My first of members will declare ; 
My second (both in Roman speech) 
Being or entity will teach ; 
And then my whole will right pro- 
claim 
The source whence all the people 
came ! 



Ye tyro Latinists rehearse 
The secret of this simple verse. 

IV. 
Where fierce carniv'rous creatures 

reign, 
My first, in nature's wild domain, 

Affords those creatures joy ; 
My next an ancient coin descries- ; 
Or token gives, or proof supplies, 

"Where'er it finds employ. 
My whole, a kingdom known from 

old 
For warriors resolute and bold, 

"Who once were Britain's foes ; 
And, hardy still, with barren soil, 
Amid the sea-born fogs they toil, 

"With few and simple laws. 



A sort of vehicle my first ; 

My next, a creature much ca- 
ress'd ; 
Each furnish'd house contains my 
whole, 
"Whereon the lady's foot is press'd. 



TRANSFORMATIONS. 



I. 

A creature's name, whereof we boast. 
Transpos'd,;decIares the ocean's coast, 
Again, its leading letter leave, 
The rest describe what makes us 

grieve. 
Yet these, if rightly plac'd, discover 
A flow'r admir'd the world all over. 
Eeduc'd again, 'twill yet bespeak 
The object which the miners' seek. 
More forms I see, but, if you please, 
Unravel and exhibit these. 

II. 
One point (by mariners express'd) 
Describes a thing whereon we rest ; 



A second gives a useful dish, 
That those may dine on who may 

wish; 
A thud will oft the dresses tear 
Of the young, careless, rambling 

fair; 
A fourth gives exercise of voice, 
"Which many use who have the 

choice. 
Th' initials of these four eombin'd 
Oft please the men of curious mind. 
When you have all these points 

unfurl'd, 
They'll point your passage round 

the world. 



300 



JUVENILE PASTIMES. 



ORTHOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 



My foremost snakelike elemont 
Contorts and hisses as it goes ; 
Yet never venoms, bites, or stings, 
Tho'sure as death it ends our foes. 
My second with my first combin'd, 
An adverb forms, the grammars 
prove ; 
My third with these the Latin owns 
In a bright noun most creatures 
love; 
Tho<c, with my next, a city names, 
Whereat much human bloud was 
spilt ; 
Proud King Tigranes spoil'd this 
place — 
Pompey the Great the same re- 
built. 
My following three, when us'd alone, 
Yield a contracted English noun, 
Which designates, in slight con- 
tempt, 
Such men as dwell within a town. 



All theso, a leash of syllables, 

Ariso from elements but sev'n, 
And Bonn a verb, in frequent use, 
Which begs some favour to bo 
giv'n. 
My two concluding members next 
Bring a conjunction to your aid ; 
Of two things you have always 
choico 
When by this joint your speech 
is made. 
That verb and this conjunction 
join'd 
Afford another English name 
For often-seen professionals 

Not most immaculate in fame ! 

Nine letters, never once transpos'd, 

Give all these pow'rs in one 

plain word ; 

Directly onwards read the whole, 

And to its truth your vow 

accord. 



FRACTIONS OP FORTUNE. 

Three brothers— Joe, and Tom, and Ben- 
Had just one hundred sovereigns giv'n; 

When Joe rcceiv'd two-fifths of ten ; 
The part for Tom was half of sev'n ; 

When Tom took three to be his share ; 
Young Ben one-eighth of twenty got. 

So, when divided right and fair. 
What sum will be each brother's lot ? 



ANSWERS. 

Chabades.— 1, Par-don. 2, Ire-land. 3, Par-ens. 4, Den-mark. 5, Car-pet. 

Transformations.— 1, Horse— Shore— Sore— Rose— Ore. 2, The cardi- 
nal points of the mariner's compass— East, West, North, and South— 
transpose into seat, stew, thorn, shout. The initials of these four points 
are NEWS, the staple article of curious gossips ! 

Orthographical Enigma.— S— so — sol— soli— cit— solicit— or— Solicitor. 

Fractions op Eortcke.— Joe's share, £'38 8s. ; Tom's, £33 12s. ; Ben's, 
£28. 



